


Internal Decay

by StarWarsSyl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Detective AU, Flashbacks, Gen, Murder Mystery, Strangulation, blunt force trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-02-06 16:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWarsSyl/pseuds/StarWarsSyl
Summary: Anakin Skywalker calls the Service Corps home, as an embittered homicide detective Jedi working with Coruscant's police force. He's good at what he does, but there are some things he will never, ever forget.And he's not about to let it go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not part of the Web. It's not even remotely canon compliant. Enjoy!

 

 

**Prologue**

 

“Anakin.”

The ten-year-old stood shivering, his thin shoulders wracked with cold and fear. “Obi-Wan?” he craned his neck—

“Don't turn around,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Hold still, Anakin.”

The small head faced forward, and Obi-Wan could sense how  _ hard  _ it was for him.

“I need you to do something for me,” Obi-Wan said, voice gentle. “Close our bond.”

“Master?” The terror in the young voice broke the older's heart.

“Close it, Anakin. Please.”

He obeyed, muffling Obi-Wan's sense of his fear.

_ Thank the Force. _ Obi-Wan closed down his own side, and silence fell.

Now, all they could sense of one another was what they could sense of those around them as well.

“What is  _ happening,  _ Master?”

Obi-Wan could hear the impatience of the beings around him, eager to finish the job and move on. “I'm going to have to leave you, Anakin. No— hush. Keep the bond closed. Do not open it. And whatever happens, do not turn around.”

“ _ Obi-Wan— _ ”

“You're doing so well, Anakin,” Obi-Wan choked. “I'm so proud of you.” Tears blurring his vision, he turned his head to the one holding the cord and gave a single nod.

“ _ Master _ !” The panic was clear in Anakin's voice.

As the rope settled over his neck, there was only one more thing Obi-Wan Kenobi had to say.

“I  _ love you _ .”

And then the rope was biting into his throat.

He heard blood roaring in his ears, Anakin's screams—

His own choking—

Thrashing against the floor, it took so  _ long  _ for the lack of oxygen to claim his mind.

_ Qui-Gon, watch over Anakin. Watch over him. _

_Watch over hi—_

 

 

**Chapter 1**

 

 

“ _ Listen. _ The only reason I'm letting you tag along is because I don't have time to take you  _ back. _ ”

“I'm telling you, I was  _ assigned to you. _ ”

“And  _ I'm  _ telling you there's been a  _ mistake. _ ” Anakin Skywalker scowled down at the young Togruta glaring up at him. “I'm not in the market for a tag-along.”

“I can be  _ useful _ !”

_ Yeah. Right. _

She couldn't be more than fourteen.

_ I was fripping useless at that age. _

_And for a good many years after that._

Somehow, the teenage years felt  _ long  _ behind him, though he'd only left their touch behind... kark. A year ago.

He chose to ignore  _ that  _ bit of truth.

“Just don't throw up when we get to the crime scene,” Anakin grumbled, brushing past the child and moving on with his  _ day. _

He'd requested  _ backup.  _ The mistake wasn't  _ amusing  _ by any stretch of the imagination.

Then again, Temic would say he found  _ nothing  _ humorous.

_ Not quite true. I'll be amused when our perp is behind bars for life. _

“So Jedi who help with Law Enforcement.” The girl trotted at his side, her shorter legs having to take two steps for his every one. “Service Corps. Why'd you flunk out?”

“I  _ didn't, _ ” was his grim retort. “I requested it.”

“I didn't think that's how it worked,” Ahsoka protested. “I mean, your master  _ does  _ what he  _ does,  _ right?”

“I was in need of a new one.”

“Oh.”

“And I don't help with any old  _ parking ticket  _ job, Youngling, I work with  _ Homicide _ . Do you even know what that means?”

“I'm  _ not  _ a youngling. I'm a  _ Padawan.  _ And  _ Homicide  _ is the division of police that focuses on murders. But... you could have been a  _ knight.  _ And you chose to be a  _ cop _ ?”

“It's none of your business. I'm a Jedi. That should be good enough for anybody.”

“Yeah, but a  _ knight  _ gets to meet all kinds of  _ people  _ all over the  _ galaxy  _ and you're stuck on  _ Coruscant.  _ Not  _ nice  _ parts of it at that, and—”

“Listen here, _Snips,_ I didn't ask for you to get dragged into being 'stuck' in the 'not nice' parts of a single planet. In fact, I'd much rather be _stuck_ here _by myself._ ”

“You're grumbly,” she muttered. “Are you always in this good a mood?”

“This is a  _ good  _ day, Kid.”

He could sense her deflating spirits.

They reached the small flat, found Crime Scene hard at work.

“What've we got?” Anakin asked as he caught sight of Kuno Adele.

The medical examiner gave him a smile that gleamed in the warm, dark tones of his face. “One dead Zeltron. Female. Looks to be in her early thirties. No ID, slight signs of a struggle, looks like she was bashed in the head with a painting, of all things.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “A  _ painting _ ?”

“Yeah. Corner of the frame. I'll know more when we get her back to the lab.”

“Time of death?”

“Somewhere between six to eight hours ago, standard.”

“Thanks.” Anakin slipped under the the police barrier holo and for a long moment simply looked down the hall at the other doors, as well as the one standing open.

_ Place looks just like all the other ones. _

He could smell urine, one of the ceiling lights was flickering, trash lay scattered in corners.

“Why aren't we going inside?” The question shattered his concentration.

He sighed. “Listen,  _ Snips, _ I'm working. Pretend you're not here, or something.” 

“The dead body's  _ inside,  _ Skyguy.” 

“ _ What  _ did you just call me?” he rounded on her in exasperation.

She shrugged. “Since we're not using  _ real  _ names, apparently.”

“I don't even know what your  _ real name  _ is, Kid.”

Her expression mirrored his own. “I  _ told  _ you already. Ahsoka Tano. Apparently you weren't listening.”

“Get used to it.”

He saw wrappings from a restaurant  _ far  _ too fancy for someone forced to live in this price range, saw gold shimmer rubbed into the wall—

Took a step closer to inspect it—

A sniff solidified it. The real deal, not some cheep knockoff.

Rich people came here.

“Was this how  _ you  _ were raised?” Ahsoka muttered.

Annoyed, Anakin pointed at the glitter. “See that?”

“ _ What _ ? The shiny stuff?”

“Yeah. The shiny stuff. What does it tell you?”

“Someone bumped into the wall?” She sounded sullen.

Anakin scoffed. “The wall has texture, yeah? If someone had bumped into it, it would be on the  _ top,  _ right?”

“But it  _ isn't.  _ It's in the valleys, but it's been worn away from the surface.” Ahsoka had her nose so close she could practically snort the stuff.

_ Good thing I'm not in Vice.  _ “So?”

“So someone really rubbed up against this wall.”

“Yeah.”

She sent him a swift, confused look, when she realized he expected her to understand.

So he pointed out the wrappers.

And she  _ still  _ didn't get it.

“Rich people, Ahsoka.”

“Oh.”

“Rich people don't need to come to places like  _ this  _ to keep their...  _ trysts. _ ”

Her face flushed, her gaze falling away from his bored stare.

“Rich people go to rich places for companionship. They only seek out  _ these  _ places if there's something they need to  _ hide. _ ”

“Because they're married?”

“That's usually a good guess.” He slipped protective covers over his boots and hands, then handed extras to her.

She looked just a bit subdued as he stepped through the doorway.

_ It takes just as much training to be a good cop as it is to be a good anything else, Kid. _

Ahsoka followed him, eyes wide as she took in the covered-up Uniforms who cataloged everything.

“Don't touch anything,” Anakin instructed.

He could sense her flare of injured pride. “I actually  _ got  _ that on my own, Skyguy.”

He stepped from the hall into the bedroom and paused to take in the details.

The body lay on the floor, only the crushed-in head visible.

A gasp from Ahsoka signaled she'd seen it.

_ Maybe I should have left her outside. _

Except that she was here wanting to be the apprentice of someone who worked in  _ murders.  _ Life was a dark thing. She was going to see all kinds of gruesome things. Might as well get used to it sooner than later.

Sure was a hell of a lot more real than  _ many  _ professions.

A painting lay on the floor, the corner gore-stained, with a few strands of dark maroon hair caught in the frame. It was a poorly-executed nude of a Twi'lek woman.

Anakin realized with amusement that Ahsoka seemed almost as overwhelmed by  _ that  _ as the dead body.

_ Oh, Kid. _

“What can you tell me about the murder weapon?” Anakin asked, his tone trying to impress on her the sheer normalcy of all of this.

“The— the picture?” Ahsoka squeaked.

He sent her a  _ look.  _ “It killed somebody.”

“Um...  _ yeah.  _ It— it looks like it killed her.”

Anakin sighed. “Is a  _ frame  _ something you'd think of first as a suitable weapon to kill someone with?”

“I'd— probably use a blaster. Or a knife, even. Seems kind of... weird.”

“That suggests it was a crime of passion.”

Ahsoka's eyes widened. “What does that mean?”  
“Means our killer wasn't  _ planning  _ on killing her beforehand, or they'd have been better prepared. You have premeditated murders, and crimes of passion.”

“Oh.”

“So something set our killer off. Where did the painting come from?”

Ahsoka peered around him. “The wall. Above the headboard.”

“Yeah.”

“Did he hit her in  _ bed  _ with it?”  
“We'll check the sheets for blood.”

He moved farther into the room, Ahsoka growing bold enough to approach the bed from the  _ safe  _ side, away from the body. She looked eager— until her nostrils flared and she caught sight of  _ something _ on the tangled sheets.

She bit her lip and sent a sideways glance at Anakin.

But it wasn't  _ his  _ job to make this more comfortable for her.

What did she  _ think  _ the killer and victim had been doing in this room before the murder?

_ I wasn't this naive at fourteen. Hell. I wasn't this naive at nine. _

“So? Any blood?”  
“N-no,” she murmured, looking close to humiliated.

_ That is an impressive amount of discomfort. _

Rather amusing, actually.

_ Good thing Temic isn't here. _

“What do the fluids tell you?”

“ _ Ew, Skyguy _ !”

“We're looking for a male killer,” he supplied, since she was too busy hoping to die instead of  _ working. _

Ahsoka moved around the bed, squealed, spun around and refused to meet his gaze.

“What?” he asked, stepping to join her.

“ _ No _ !” she protested, waving hands in his face. “Don't look! She's not  _ decent! _ ”

“That's not really a surprise,” Anakin pointed out.

She looked even more distraught. “No, she doesn't have  _ any clothes  _ on.”

“Kid, it's a corpse, and I'm here to make sure she ends up with justice. So get out of the way.”

“But—”

“It's kind of late for dignity, Snips. Do you have any idea how many people have already seen her and how many more will have to in order to find her killer? It's not like she  _ cares  _ anymore. All that matters is that we get the scumbag who did this.”

“But  _ you're  _ a, and  _ she's  _ a— and  _ I'm  _ here—”

“Oh, for Force's sake.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her around him to behind his back, out of his way.

With the obstruction gone, he studied the scene. Matching her feet to the floor, standing her up in his mind—

He looked to the bed again.

_ She could have gotten up to leave, he grabs for the only weapon the room offers, moves to the edge of the bed, bashes her in the head with it while her back is turned. _

“Do you think he...  _ you  _ know...”

“Killed her?” Anakin returned, tone dry. “Yeah. For some reason I think he  _ did,  _ Snips.”

“ _ No.  _ I mean the— did he...  _ force  _ her?”

“She's a Zeltron, Snips. Very unlikely.”

“Why?”

Anakin surveyed the deep crimson tone of her skin, the maroon hair that fell messy around her highly-painted face. “They're telempaths. They can make you feel what they feel, or what they  _ want  _ you to feel. If he'd been trying to 'force' her as you put it, all she'd have to do to get away is make him feel disinclined or sad or whatever.”

“Oh. Who was she?”

“No identification has been found so far. We'll take her prints, face, and genetic signature, run them through the databases. Maybe we'll get something, maybe we won't. We'll canvass the neighborhood with her holo, see if anybody recognizes her—”

Ahsoka sent him a horrified look.

“Her  _ head _ , Ahsoka. Force.”

She looked a bit relieved, even as he chuckled.

“You thought we'd— that's just hilarious, Kid. The droids'll do that. And they'll also go through whatever security footage is available. Though I'm guessing there's not going to be much.”  
“That's it? Isn't there more we can do?”  
“Yeah. Crime Scene does its job and collects our killer's DNA, since he quite helpfully left so much behind to work with.”  
She ducked her head, trying to hide her embarrassment again.

“As far as what  _ we  _ are going to do,  _ I'm  _ going to head back to the station and send you back to the Temple.”  
Shame was driven from her in an instant as she ran after him as he headed out the door. “But wasn't I helpful?”

“Not really.”

“I'm quick to learn, though.”

“Don't care.”  
“But I want to  _ be  _ here—”

He smirked. “No you don't, you spent half our time together wishing the floor would swallow you up.”

“I can get  _ better— _ ”

“Listen. There's plenty of other masters out there. You'll get one that'll take you all over the galaxy, see the stars and stuff. Because trust me, you won't want to help with the paperwork.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean,  _ I have to keep her for three days? _ ” Anakin  _ tried  _ to keep his voice down, but he suspected Ahsoka, hovering near, heard.

Yoda left no room for argument, and cut the connection.

“ _ Frip  _ you,” Anakin snarled.

Ahsoka jumped, her eyes wide.

_ If they  _ had  _ to send me a kid, why couldn't they have picked one less...  _ untouched  _ by the world? _

Didn't they  _ know  _ better? Sending some pure young thing to follow behind him was  _ asking  _ for her entire worldview to end up smashed to bits. An idealistic, sweet child would turn into a cynical, cold-hearted wretch.

_ That's what the universe does to you when you touch its underbelly. _

But complaining wasn't going to get him very far, so he straightened up and scowled at Ahsoka. “I'm going to fill out reports now. You're going to sit in a chair by my desk and not move.”

Dismay flooded her face. “Can't I  _ help _ ?”

“You wouldn't be a  _ help, _ ” Anakin retorted, dragging a chair behind him to his desk and clanging it down. “ _ Sit,  _ and don't move.”

Hell.

If he'd been given that direction at her age, it would have been war.

But  _ this  _ kid sat, however reluctantly, and kept quiet.

Two and a half hours into the hell of paperwork, Anakin decided that Ahsoka was a fairly decent kid all things considered. She'd counted the ceiling tiles a few times, filed her fingernails, toenails, polished her saber, meditated for ten minutes, and then fallen into people watching as cops moved through the bullpen.

Heck. Maybe she was even learning something.

_ Hopefully she'll go back to the Temple and do everything in her willpower to never,  _ ever  _ be paired with me again. _

He stood and dragged one of the much-abused holo projectors over to a small area of clear floorspace and turned it on. With a few gestures he removed the final notes from the previous case that still remained.

Another finger movement and he had a timeline.

His messy marks on it gave him his murder window, and that done, he transferred images of the crime scene to the blue expanse hovering before him.

He heard the sound of metal dragging against the floor and glanced up at a mirror in one of the ceiling corners to see Ahsoka scooting her chair from the far end of his desk to the one closest to him.

He sighed. “I told you to stay put.”

“Chair, desk, me,  _ sat.  _ Put I've stayed, Skyguy. Haven't stood up once.”

It  _ was  _ impressive. Not that he would admit it aloud.

“That's our murder board?”

“It's  _ my  _ murder board and how in all nine Corellian hells do you know the term?”

Ahsoka shrugged. “I have a friend who likes cop holodramas.”

“Yeah? You can forget anything you  _ think  _ you may have learned from them.”

“Except the word  _ murder board. _ ”

Ooh. He stifled his annoyed smirk.

His comlink chimed. “Skywalker here.”

“The droids have finished knocking on doors. 'Fraid there isn't much, Fearless.”

“Give me what you've got.” Anakin stared at his timeline.

“Nobody's admitting to having known her, but there's one guy who  _ clearly  _ recognized her image, but isn't talking. I'm sending his name and address to your desk.”  
“Anything else?”

Melco snorted. “From the canvass? No. Security footage is a little bit better. There's a low-rez image of some guy walking into the building with our vic. Fingerprint and DNA recognition is completed with nothing to show for it.”

Anakin tapped at his link, considered the holo of his potential killer.  _ Look at those clothes. Why am I not surprised you weren't found in the criminal databases? _ “Melc. Do me a favor, buddy, and run it against the Senate list.”

“The frip do you think I am? Your butler?”

“Thanks, Melc.” Anakin cut the connection even as Melco spewed out a stream of curses.

Anakin added the new touches to his murder board and swung around his desk again.

“Now what?” Ahsoka asked.

He didn't look up at her as he got to work. “I send the security footage over to the computer tech guys. They'll see if they can clean it up. Then I head down to the morgue and see if I can speed up Adele's examination.”

“Okay.”

He grabbed his trench coat from the back of his chair and headed for the exit.

He sensed Ahsoka at his elbow. “Who said you could come?”

“You're responsible for me for the day. For  _ three  _ days,” was her smug retort.

He frowned. “Just stay out of the way.”

“I live to please, Skyguy.”

He couldn't decide whether he found the attitude appealing or just downright  _ annoying. _

They shared the lift with Jemiko, her partner, and their raving catch. The human male was shaking his binder-clad wrists and screaming at the top of his lungs about the  _ wrongness  _ of the war, the affront to morality and life.

Anakin winced against the noise, and noticed Ahsoka seemed to be hit by it even more strongly.  _ She doesn't seem to have ears. I wonder if those... upside-down lekku are some form of echo chamber. _

He could only imagine what the vibrations might feel like from this idiot's shrill screeching.

“Yeah, yeah. Killing people's wrong,” jeered Jemiko. “So how do you tell people killings' wrong? You blow a whole bunch of people up. Four dead, three wounded.”

Anakin snorted a laugh. “Seriously?”

The woman sent him a sly grin. “Seriously.”

“ _ Force  _ they get stupider every year.”

“ _I am not stupid_! This war is _vile_! I did what I _had_ to so people would _wake up and see the truth_!”

“Protesting violence with violence. I'm sure  _ no one  _ was confused about what the hell you were trying to say.” Anakin shook his head and sent Ahsoka an amused leer.

She stared back at him, clearly overwhelmed, and unprepared to give an answer.

His words sent the soon-to-be-prisoner over the edge.

Nothing worse than someone killing to make a statement being told that their statement wasn't made. That nobody the  _ frip  _ cared.

_ They seem to think people will  _ notice.  _ They make headlines for a while, if they're lucky, they get attention again for the trial and sentencing, and then everyone forgets them with the next new big scare. _

The woman escorting the spit-spewing perp scowled at Anakin, clearly not pleased with his  _ too-pointed _ poking of the caged nexu.

_ Yeah. It's not like I'm going to have to deal with him after I get out of this lift. And boy does that guy have a set of lungs. Guess I owe you a drink sometime. _

He and Ahsoka bolted out the door as soon as it opened, leaving the  _ very  _ annoyed cops to continue on in their tiny, enclosed space with Mr. Make Them See.

“That was...” Ahsoka threw a quick glance over her shoulder and shivered. “Was he... on drugs?”

Anakin shrugged. “Maybe. With the political idealists, you never know.”

“That's not true,” Ahsoka protested. “There's signs, right? Around the eyes, jitters, the way they walk, and in the Force?”

All of which was correct, and she'd called him on his banthakark.  _ Definitely not worried about sucking up to me, are you? _

He could respect that. Maybe.

“Got a friend who watches junkie vids too?”  
“Is that a  _ thing _ ?”

“Don't know, don't care.” The memory of a poster he'd seen somewhere along the line crossed his mind. “Scratch that. Do know. Still don't care.”

They reached the end of the hall and Anakin signaled the double doors open. They slid into the walls, and tendrils of cold air reached out to curl Anakin in their embrace.

The loud smells of disinfectants couldn't hide the lurking whiffs of death. He both saw and sensed Ahsoka wince against it all.

_ You haven't seen anything yet. _

By the time Ahsoka's three days were up, she was going to head back to the Temple with PTSD.

Opera music cranked up so loud Anakin wondered if  _ this  _ was the time his ears were going to shatter and his brain spill all over the immaculate floors greeted them as Anakin opened another door.

Ahsoka clamped hands over where her ears weren't.

Anakin leaned against the doorway, arms folded, waiting for Adele to notice him standing there. Ahsoka huddled at his side, desperately out of her element.

His steps almost flowing with the music, Kuno Adele lifted their vic's brain out of her skull to weigh it, chewing on a pastry.

Ahsoka gagged.

Somehow Adele heard over the screaming crescendo of a thousand Mon Cal voices raised in song. The music fell silent and he gave them a closed-lipped smile, beckoning them in with a glistening glove.

Ahsoka let out one last tiny whimper before following Anakin into the room.

“Still got the youngling?”

“I'm hoping she's going to be so repulsed by your snacking habits that she spends the rest of the day in the refresher.” Anakin pulled a package out of his coat pocket and held it up.

Ahsoka sent him a damning glare, but Adele's face lit up with his beautiful smile. “Always so thoughtful. You can set it on the counter, there.”  
Ahsoka's eyes followed Anakin's hand as he tossed the new pastry to the flat surface in question.

A counter that  _ also  _ held various organs from their Zeltron.

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut, drew in a deep breath, and demanded, “How can you  _ eat  _ in here?”

Adele sent her a confused look. “Why wouldn't I?”

“It's...  _ disgusting. _ ”

Anakin grinned to himself. Force, she was hilarious. “What have you got for me?”  
“I was about to offer snacks, but I'm guessing your Padawan wouldn't appreciate it much.”  
Ahsoka grimaced.

“ _ Not  _ my Padawan. I must have done something to seriously kriff the Council off with me, so they're forcing me to keep her for seventy-two hours standard.”

Adele gave a sage nod. “So that's how it is.”

“No, that's how he  _ thinks  _ it is,” Ahsoka spoke up. “He's in a state of denial at the moment. He should probably take pills for it.”

Anakin grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, the action rough. Ahsoka's eyes widened in shock and fear as she saw the anger in his eyes.

Pulling himself together half a heartbeat after that second-long aggression, Anakin peered down at the opened-up cadaver. “You've got the exact time of death by now?”

“Yep.” Adele used his forearm to swipe at his nose, since his gloves were currently coated in dead Zeltron. “Oh-one-hundred this morning. Also, she had a  _ nice  _ dinner around an hour before her death, give or take.”  
“How could you tell  _ that _ ?” Ahsoka asked.

Adele nodded to a nearby tray. “Contents of her stomach. Anyway. Given the overall state of her health, I think it's safe to say that kind of dining wasn't normal.”

“Our perp took her out to eat?” Anakin suggested.

Adele shrugged. “Possible. Either way, you might want to check nearby high-end restaurants.”

“Yeah.”

“Sexually active just prior to her murder, none of the usual signs of rape, and only a few light defensive wounds. I'd say she sat up to leave, he took exception to something, grabbed for her, she beat him off, got up, took the picture to the back of the head.”

Anakin gave a nod, Ahsoka's growing discomfort no longer amusing. Now it was just annoying. And his head hurt.

And it wasn't even fripping noon yet.

“Anything else you can tell me?”  
“She was in her late twenties, early thirties, a mild spice habit, chewed her lip when nervous, hated her job.”

Ahsoka radiated stunned disbelief. “How can you  _ know  _ that?”

“The spice stained her fingernails,” Adele pointed them out, “the lower lip shows signs of continued abuse that is lacking on the upper, the patterns of which belong to her own teeth.”  
“And hating her job?”

“While she's basically clean, there are signs of prolonged, light self-abuse. She didn't consider herself worth taking care of, except for the ways in which it might affect her job.”

“Courtesan,” Ahsoka supplied.

Anakin snorted again.  _ Seriously? _

Adele only cocked his head and gave the youngling an amused smile. “That's right.”

“How long did it take you to learn all this stuff?” Ahsoka asked.

“I keep learning, Padawan. Every day.”

The ME's acknowledgment of Ahsoka's claimed title pleased the kid.

_ Don't encourage it, _ Anakin inwardly groaned. “Thanks, man. I'm off to the grand adventure of tracking financials.”

“Happy hunting.”

“Right.”

Ahsoka waved. “Bye.”

“Watch your back, my dear. Fearless is likely to cuff you to a chair and leave you behind if you don't watch out.”

“ _ Adele _ !” Kark, now he wouldn't be able to get the drop on her.

“I'll keep it in mind!” Ahsoka called back as they headed out the door. As they reached the hallway, she nudged Anakin's arm with her elbow. “So, that's the second guy I've heard call you  _ Fearless.  _ What's up with the weird nickname?”

“Wasn't my doing.”

“Bet you like it though.”  
Anakin took several steps in silence before he answered. When he did, his voice was just a bit darker than he intended, gave a little too much away.

“No. I hate it.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Financial checks for the room turned up a big fat  _ nothing.  _ The place operated with almost no bookwork whatsoever.

However, the Income Bureau was happy to take  _ that  _ up and run with it.

But since the whining owner of the establishment didn't seem able to help with his investigation, Anakin really didn't care.

He didn't realize it was past noon until the youngling started whining about her stomach.

“What, kid, you didn't have breakfast?” he grumbled back.

She arched a brow marking at him. “Do you have something against  _ lunch  _ too?”

“What do you mean by that?” He summoned the lift to take them back up to the bullpen.

She started ticking points off with her fingers. “You've got a thing against life, being happy, being optimistic, being young, taking pills, inquisitive minds, people who want to help, and nicknames. How am I doing so far?”

“I  _ don't  _ have anything against nicknames as a general rule. Just  _ that  _ one.”

“Ah- _ ha _ !” Ahsoka pointed a finger at him. “So you've had a nickname you liked. What was it?”

Soft hair gripped tight in his fingers. Hands bracing his shins so he doesn't topple backwards. His head tipped back as far as it can go, staring at the clouds. Pointing out podracers and ships and animals and battles and adventures in their fluffy shapes. A presence in the Force that wrapped all around him, sheltering him from every harm, its presence like a steady stream of words of love.

A warm voice, accented to Anakin's ears.

_ “What else do you see, Anakin who Walks The Skies?” _

And even worse...

_“My Padawan.”_

“I don't want to talk about it,” Anakin growled, stepping into a mercifully empty elevator.

Ahsoka scampered after him. “ _ Ugh. _ You're just loads of fun.”

“Yep. Definitely not the master you want.”  
He pointedly ignored the thoughtful look that took possession of her face.  _ No.  _ Don't  _ get any ideas! _

Any  _ more  _ ideas, rather.

“Listen.” He needed to distract her, and fast. “I'll update the murder board, and then we'll go find something to gnaw on.”

She gave him a silent nod.

The door opened again to reveal a  _ livid  _ superior officer.

“ _ Skywalker. _ ”

Oh  _ kark. _

Chief Turic was using her quiet voice. The one that somehow, despite its lack of volume, carried through a room and silenced  _ everyone  _ within it.

Anakin froze, trying to remember  _ what  _ he must have done to warrant—

“Why did you request use of the Senate database?”

_ Wait...  _ that's  _ what I'm in trouble for? _ “The killer's prints and DNA found no matches in the criminal databases, Sir.”

Turic's dark eyes watched his every twitch. “So you go for the  _ Senate  _ listings?”

“A hunch, Sir.” He raised his chin. “And it was a  _ good  _ one, Chief.”

Turic sighed. “Alright. In my office. Both of you.” She turned on her heel and led the way.

“Who is that?” Ahsoka whispered.

“My boss,” Anakin simplified.

Ahsoka's eyes widened. “What pronouns should I use?”

“Uh... she and her, as far as I know. She wants to be called  _ Sir  _ as a respect thing. It's the title you give a man who's worked as hard as she has, so she wants the same treatment.”

Ahoska nodded. “Sounds fair. Like all Masters in the Order are Masters.”

_ And that really has  _ no  _ importance  _ whatsoever  _ when my ass is getting raked over the coals here, kid, and for something that actually wasn't bad behavior this time!  
_ They filed into the room and at Turic's gesture closed the door behind them.

For a long moment Anakin found himself studying the ebony face, searching for  _ any  _ hint of  _ why  _ this should be happening.

“We've got something.” Turic's expression was still closed, and in the Force, she gave even  _ less  _ away.

Anakin knew by now that prodding her to go  _ faster  _ would result in pain, deep pain, so he waited with what patience he could muster for her to reveal more.

“Because of that, we're pulling you off the case.”

Anakin stared at her in disbelief. “ _ What _ ? My hunch turns out good, and you  _ yank me _ ?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, and he reined himself in.

“Sir.” He lowered his gaze to stop challenging her, fought for a respectful tone of voice and somehow managed to scrape one together. “I would like to know why.”

“We got a match for both prints and DNA. Malfide Tua, an aide to a senator from the Outer Rim. He has known ties to the Drung gang.”

Cold.

Afraid, so afraid.

_ “I love you, Anakin.” _

The sound of a body striking the floor hard. Lungs rasping for air that wouldn't come. Gasping devolving into choking, the Force  _ twisting— _

Anakin kept his mouth shut, careful not to react, knowing  _ this  _ was what Marre Turic was looking for.

“Both Spice and Organized Crime have their fingers in this pie, but they haven't been able to take action against him. Not enough evidence, and an obnoxious lawyer.”

“Spice and OC can't get him, but Homicide can. He was sloppy, Chief. Could even be his first kill. I don't think he'll hold out in an interrogation room.”

“They're willing to work with us on this, if they can't get him for what they want, they certainly won't argue with the years we might be able to get him. However, given your history with Drung, you're too close to this. We're reassigning it.”

Anakin could feel Ahsoka's curiosity.

_ It's none of your frakking business. _

“To  _ who _ ?” Anakin asked, voice tight.

“Stenski.”

And  _ that's  _ when Anakin lost it. “ _ Seriously _ ?”

“Do you think he can't get the job done right?” There was a hint of a warning, a flash of white teeth—

“No, he's one of the best we've got,” Anakin admitted, “but this is  _ my case. I'm  _ the one who was out there  _ far  _ too early this morning, I'm the one who thought to use the Senate list; it's  _ my  _ case.”

“Not anymore.” The human woman planted both hands on her desk and leaned forward, staring him in the eye. “Now get the hell out of my office, Knight Skywalker.”

He grit his teeth and stormed out, Ahsoka trailing behind like debris caught in the wake of a tornado.

Several faces turned away as he exited, revealing he must have been louder than he'd thought. By quite a bit.

He didn't slow until he was out of the building and headed across the way to the Cheep Food Joint.

“Wait up, Skyguy!”

“ _ Stop  _ calling me that!” he snarled.

Apparently it was a bit more vicious than she'd grown accustomed to because her eyes went wide and her hands came up. “ _ Okay _ . Easy. Sheesh.”

He glared and stomped through the door that shrieked every damn time it opened.

He turned to his table—

And Force  _ frip  _ it all, but someone had taken  _ that too. _

“Skywalker.”

Anakin turned to find Metalla, face painted with surprise. “Somebody's in my spot,” he grumbled.

“Sorry about that.” The blue Twi'lek shrugged. “It's not like you ever get here before evening. We don't keep the table clear for you the  _ entire  _ day.”

Anakin just glowered.

“I'll put you by the kitchen door,” Metalla decided, leading the way, her hips swaying in what Anakin privately thought had to be an intentionally exaggerated way. “Is she yours?”

“No,” was his automatic response.

Ahsoka didn't say a word.

They reached a small table, deep in the back of the room, and Metalla pulled a chair out for Ahsoka as Anakin took the other.

“Thanks,” Ahsoka murmured, absentminded.

Metalla scooted Ahsoka's chair back to the table, smiling down at its occupant. “Can't tell you how glad I am to hear you're not taken.”

“She's younger than she looks,” Anakin intervened with a warning  _ look _ at Metalla. “Underage kind of young.”

Ahsoka stared at him in horrified shock.

Metalla chuckled. “Come back in a few years, darling. I'll be waiting. Now. What can I get you both?” Her alluring voice went to professional like a switch had flipped.

Somehow, Ahsoka managed to order, looking absolutely mortified the while. Anakin followed suit, and as Metalla swished through the nearby door into the kitchen, Anakin leaned back in his chair.

“First time you've ever been hit on.”

Ahsoka scowled at him. “Is  _ not _ .”

He gave her a  _ look  _ that said loudly that she could spare him the banthakark.

“Okay...  _ yes... _ ” She leaned forward, looking unnerved. “It's...  _ weird.  _ I feel... weird.”

Anakin shrugged. “Now that she knows you're off limits she'll be fine. Don't worry, it won't be awkward. She hits on any pretty woman that comes through the front door. It's not like something special happened.”

“You  _ really  _ know how to make somebody feel good, Anakin Skywalker,” Ahsoka said, that brow marking arched again, and her tone dry.

He shrugged. “It's not part of my job to make people  _ feel  _ good. Sort of the opposite.”

Ahsoka planted her elbows on the table. “For the  _ bad guys. _ ”

“Anybody's capable of anything. If given the right provocation.”

“You don't really believe that,” Ahsoka scoffed. “You're just trying to shock me again.”

His foot started jiggling as he eyed the couple who'd taken  _ his  _ table. “You could easily be the next murderer I'm hunting down.”

He sensed hurt,  _ anger,  _ and a crushing disappointment.

“You think I could  _ do  _ something so terrible as  _ kill  _ someone?”

He sent her an unimpressed once-over. “Like I said. Anybody can do anything. It's all about incentive. Some people kill for money. There are others who  _ never  _ would. Perhaps they would only kill out of anger. Someone else might kill to survive, others might refuse it even under life-and-death circumstances... unless maneuvered into a corner by someone threatening their kid or spouse. If someone held a blaster to their kid's head and told them to murder some random guy, they'd do it. There aren't  _ good  _ people and  _ bad  _ people, Ahsoka. There's just people. And everybody has a breaking point.”

“Even  _ you _ ?” she shot back.

“Everybody.”

She was still mad. “Is that why they won't let you keep your case?”  
“Yeah.” Another shrug. The chef droid must be malfunctioning again. He wanted the food to arrive soon so something could be stuffed in Ahsoka's mouth to shut her up.

“So this Drang gang—”

“Drung,” Anakin muttered.

“— _ Drung  _ guys, what did they ever do to you?”

_ “Keep the bond closed, Anakin. Do not open it. Whatever happens—” _

Terror.

Failing shields as death wrapped cold hands around a breaking throat.

Agony pounding against his head as he struggled to keep it  _ out,  _ to keep his end of the bond  _ closed— _

To keep his  _ promise— _

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Ahsoka huffed. “So you're going to drag me into taking out that aide guy anyway, but I don't get to know  _ why _ .”

“I'm not going to do any such thing,” Anakin snapped back.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes at him. “Right. You were going to just  _ drop  _ the case, and let Mister-Best-We've-Got handle it. You're not going to investigate on your own because you just can't stop yourself.”

“I don't like your tone.”

“You may think I'm naive and can't observe and come to conclusions, old man, but I  _ know  _ you're not going to let this go. And since you're stuck with me,  _ I'm  _ going to be neck deep in it too. I at least deserve to know what  _ for  _ before I get in as much trouble with Chief Sir.”

“Do you come up with nicknames for  _ everybody _ ?”

“No. I haven't come up with one for Flirty Waitress yet.”

He snorted a laugh. “Very funny. But maybe you should go for Flirty Owner and Proprietor Who Built This Place With Her Own Two Hands From The Ground Up Because No One Was Willing To Help Her With Anything.”

“ _ That  _ was heated.” Ahsoka tilted her head. “You guys ever frip?”

Now it was Anakin's eyebrows hitting the ceiling.  _ The casual tone might work, kid, if you didn't light the Force up with a blush so bad that in a human you'd think it sunburn. _

“No. She only goes for ladies.”  
Ahsoka nodded, ducking her head, no longer able to keep eye contact.

It made him smile, a little. This time, not out of cynicism, but something just a bit gentler.

Maybe... maybe her shyness about the universe wasn't an annoyance, something that needed to be purged from her system as soon as possible.

_ Ah—  _ no,  _ Skywalker, you are not going to get involved enough to care either way. She's going back to the Temple, and you're never hearing from her again. Stop looking at her as a person. _

“So... Drang. Did they kill your master?”  
A cage clamped around Anakin's chest, trying to crush it. “Why the  _ frip  _ would you ask that?” he hissed.

Metalla trudged back out the door balancing four plates with ease. She dropped two off with the Jedi and kept moving.

Anakin didn't break his stare at Ahsoka for an instant.

She glared back, refusing to quail beneath his anger. “There's pain in you,” she asserted, the  _ fripping  _ little bastard. “When your boss brought up that name, in the Force you flinched.”

“You have no right to be scanning my Force sense.”

“It's a Padawan's  _ right  _ to continuously monitor their master. It's how they  _ learn.  _ And for three days, you're my master. You flinched when she mentioned Drang. You were in the market for a new master. You are here not because you have to be, you  _ chose  _ Law Enforcement, and specifically to be a murder cop. There's something that  _ drives  _ you. You don't seem to  _ enjoy  _ the work, but you're driven anyway. There's a nickname that you  _ did  _ like, but you didn't want to talk about, you don't want to talk about  _ anything  _ from your past, you're jaded and angry and hate the world, and you don't believe in happy endings.” Ahsoka narrowed her eyes, ignoring the food in front of her. “You've been showing me how to  _ see  _ things, how to make guesses. You want to know what I guess?”  
Anakin's fingernails were crushed against the durasteel of the table, and his metal fingers were beginning to leave dents in its edge despite his leather glove.

“I think somebody in the Drang gang killed your master, and got away with it.”

Metal buckled with a screech.

Ahsoka didn't jump, didn't retreat, didn't so much as flinch. She stared straight into his eyes.

It was taking effort to breathe. Force fripping damn it—

A glass clunked by his hand.

He tossed back Metalla's silent offering of solidarity without bothering to find out what it might be. It burned on the way down.

“It's none of your frakking business,” Anakin muttered, and  _ he  _ was the one who had to look away.

“Why don't you want me? You don't want anybody knowing just how  _ bad  _ this messed you up? Because I think people already know. At least your second master and the Council and the Chief, hell, probably a  _ lot  _ of your coworkers know  _ something's  _ up.”

He grit his teeth and  _ willed _ her to shut up.

“Or is it because you're afraid of doing that to  _ me _ ? That one day you won't be able to protect me, and you'll be gone?”

“Listen,  _ youngling.  _ I don't need you to psychoanalyze me. Alright? I had mandatory Mind Healer appointments for  _ years _ . Kark, until I reached adulthood. And even the  _ precinct  _ has demanded a few of those asinine visits every once in a while. If I wanted a fripping Mind Healer, I'd  _ go  _ to one. Not haul  _ your  _ ass around.”

“They medicated you too.”

Anakin saw Metalla move to go by again, stayed her with his empty glass held out. “Another.”

She took it and disappeared through the door.

“You figured that out because I barked at you about the pills.”

“Yeah. I'm learning, Anakin.”

Not Skyguy.

He couldn't meet her gaze. He just endured until more alcohol arrived. It did.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't making him feel better.

“What can I bribe you with so you'll leave me the frip alone until you go back to where you belong?”  
“Honesty.”

He sent her a surprised, then withering look. “Yeah. That's not leaving me  _ alone. _ ”

“You being  _ alone  _ is what got you in this mess.”

“You don't know  _ a thing about it _ .” Anakin's voice was almost too low to hear, but he could see the prickles on her arms and neck, hackles rising in response to the understated threat. “It would be wise to stop now.”  
“Maybe I'm spectacularly unwise. Just like you.”

Metalla walked by with dirty dishes—

“One more,” Anakin spoke up.

Metalla turned and fixed him with a cold stare. “This isn't a fripping bar, Skywalker, and you've got a kid you're currently responsible for.”

“Great help you are,” Anakin muttered.

Metalla set the dirty dishes down in the middle of the table, dragged a chair over. “Listen. Get your little pal back to the people she belongs with, and I'll hit the clubs with you tonight, be your wingman. We'll find you a lay and get you stupid drunk. But  _ not  _ until this young lady is wherever she needs to be.”

“Her place is with me for—” Anakin checked his chrono— “Sixty-four hours standard hours.”

“Then you better get your kark pulled together,” was Metalla's grim response. “That or find a babysitter.”

Anakin looked at her speculatively.

“I'm going to stop you right there,” Metalla said, scooping up the dirty dishes again. “I'd do a great many things for you, Skywalker, but babysit is  _ not  _ one of them.”  
And then she was gone again.

Anakin was left with two headaches. One pounding the inside of his skull, and the other sitting across the table, watching him with the eyes of a convoree.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

He tried leaving the Temple at 0500, thinking that would mean he could have a few hours before someone dropped the kid back in his lap.

He stumbled over a sleeping body in his doorway, crashing into the opposite wall of the darkened hall.

Around his whispered curses, he heard quiet grumbles matching his, whine for whine.

_ Force damn you. _

She was fripping persistent. He had to give her that.

“Where are you going?” Ahsoka hissed.

He sighed, bone-weary. “To  _ work. _ ”

“This early?”

“Thought I might be able to escape you.”

He could see her smirk in the dim light.

Suppressing an eye roll, Anakin simply led the way to the closest lift.

“So we going after that aide today?”

“ _ No,  _ I'm not on the case anymore,  _ remember _ ?”

“Yeah, yeah. So are we going after the aide?”

He snorted. “You really have a terrible opinion of me.”

“Is it unwarranted? I don't think you know how to obey to save your life.”

Silence, stretching for an eternity. The men gone, but he doesn't dare move.

The broken bond. Edges torn, ready to shred his soul with  _ agony  _ if his grip on keeping it closed loosens even a  _ little. _

The need to escape. The overpowering sense of claustrophobia.   
_ “Whatever happens, do not turn around.” _

Inching backwards,  _ cannot  _ fail him, his  _ last request— _

So alone, so  _ alone _ .

His heel striking something. Crouching down, reaching a hand behind him in terror. He dare not look. He  _ dare  _ not—

A boot.

Unable to stop himself, he looks around, real quick,  _ sees  _ the boot,  _ only  _ the boot—

And then he's clutching the boot and weeping into it.

Corpse encountered.

Just another of the final orders broken.

“You don't know that,” Anakin muttered, yanking himself free of the memory. “I can play with a team, I just don't like it.”

“Okay. Let's go to work, then.”

But once they reached the streets, Anakin hesitated.

He  _ hated  _ the thought of being predictable. Of doing what Ahsoka insisted he  _ would  _ do, but  _ frip  _ it all, that  _ was  _ where his nature would  _ go.  _ Maybe a bit slower than she'd started talking about it, but  _ damn it— _

He changed directions, heading for the neighborhood of the crime scene.

Ahsoka didn't say a word, but he could sense her smug self-congratulation.

_ Enjoy it while it lasts,  _ he grumbled.

Anakin observed his surroundings as he located the address Melco had given him for the neighbor who currently wasn't talking. It didn't take long to find.

Anakin rapped the door with his knuckles.

It sounded like something heavy fell on the floor, followed by garbled swearing, then, “Do you have any idea what  _ time  _ it is?”

“CCPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

At his side, Ahsoka stood a little straighter, apparently liking the sound of the  _ we. _

_ Don't get used to it. _

“Just stay quiet and pretend like you're supposed to be here,” Anakin murmured.

She gave him a nod.

The door slid open, revealing a sleep-bedragled human male. It was difficult to guess his age, since drugs had aged him prematurely.  _ He could be between thirty-seven and fifty. _

“We would like to come in and ask you a few questions,” Anakin announced.

The man shrugged, stumbling back into the room. The two Jedi followed. “What's this about?”

“We'd like to ask you a few questions about the woman who—” Anakin's voice trailed off as he caught sight of a symbol scrawled on the wall.

The letter  _ dorn  _ turned into a snake with an arrow through its heart.

In an instant he had their potential witness shoved against the wall, snarling down into wide, startled eyes.

“Is the Drung gang so careless these days?  _ Anybody  _ could see that.”

“Wait, you got this all wrong,” the man chuckled. “I don't know what you're talking about. That over there is art.”

“Yeah?” Anakin seized a forearm and shoved the loose sleeve up. “Isn't that something. You've got it in your elbow too. Must really like art.”

“I already told the cop droid all I know about the murdered hooker:  _ I don't know anything. _ ”

“Yeah? Because your responses triggered certain subroutines. It knew you were lying.”  
The man peered around him. “Thought I was still drunk when I first opened the door, but she's still standing there. She doesn't dress like a cop. What—”

“If that's your biggest concern at the moment, the threat assessment part of your brain needs a tuneup.”

“I  _ didn't kill her,  _ okay? I have an  _ alabi,  _ for frip's—”

Something caught fire deep inside Anakin. “I know  _ you  _ didn't kill her.” His metal hand crept up to rest over the other man's throat. “Because if  _ you  _ killed someone, you would use fine-spun nelph rope, hand twisted. You would settle it here,” he pressed, “and then you would pull, and just keep pulling—”

The man's eyes widened in terror as Anakin's fingers slowly constricted.

“ _ Master! _ ” Ahsoka yelped.

Anakin ignored her. He squeezed tighter, then threw the man away. The guy hit a flimsy caf table and went right through it, wood splintering. Anakin turned to pursue.

“Stay  _ away  _ from me!” The man scrambled backwards, but Anakin couldn't hear him.

_ “Don't turn around. Hold still, Anakin.” _

Death slipping through his tightly-closed bond, laying cold fingers on his soul despite his best efforts—

Anakin struck the man beneath him.

“ _ Stop _ !”

He didn't know if it was the man or Ahsoka yelling at him.

He hit him again. And again.

“What the  _ frip is wrong with you _ ?” Anakin screamed down at him. “Was he  _ so easy  _ to drop and forget?  _ Just another one _ ?”

_ “I'm going to have to leave you, Anakin.” _

His knuckles found the Drung member's face again.

_ “Keep the bond closed, Anakin.” _

Something grabbed his hand. He swung his arm backwards to free it, felt something heavy go flying backwards.

“Stop  _ right this instant _ !” The voice was young, female,  _ furious,  _ and breathless.

Anakin paused, for the first time actually  _ seeing  _ the bloodied man pinned beneath him.

He looked over his shoulder, saw Ahsoka picking herself up from where he'd thrown her.

The house was in shambles.  _ Did I do that? _

He must have. He thought the guy had fallen over and he'd hit him a couple times.

Apparently... it was a bit more than that.

“ _ I'll tell you all about Tua,  _ I  _ swear— _ just  _ stop _ !”

“Tua?” Anakin asked, confused.

The man swiped at the blood running from his nose. “ _ Yes _ , Malfide Tua! The guy who murdered the hooker, I swear you can  _ have him _ !”

“Tell me who killed the Jedi eleven years ago.”  
Anakin found his confusion mirrored in the terrified gangster. “What?”  
Anakin's fist curled again, leather creaking—

“ _ Okay, okay!  _ I don't know who did!”

“Who  _ would _ ?”

“The boss— but—”

“Where can I find your boss?”

The man shook with terror. “I can't just tell you where headquarters is, man! They  _ kill  _ rats!”

Anakin shrugged, pulled back his fist—

“ _ Fine! _ ” the man shrieked. “I'll  _ tell  _ you, but you have to get me into Witness Security! I'm not  _ dying  _ for this!”

“Yeah, yeah, you'll get it,” Anakin dismissed. “Tell me where to go.”

Moments later he was out the door, Ahsoka behind him, a nasal voice caused by a severely broken nose calling after him, “You are  _ crazy! _ ”

He swept down the street, unaware of the cold, foul wind that caught at his coat and flared its tails. He didn't care the sky couldn't be seen because there were too many levels of ceilings.

He didn't care that roads down here were  _ tunnels. _

He didn't care that everything smelled of fuel and fungus—

He had a location.

“Skyguy, what  _ happened  _ back there?”

“He gave up Tua.”  
“You completely  _ forgot  _ about that! And we're not headed back to the Precinct! You should be escorting your witness back for a  _ real  _ interrogation, one that's  _ recorded  _ and can be used to get that son of a—”

“Do you think my methods didn't  _ work _ ?”

“I think we're headed alone,  _ without backup,  _ straight into the heart of a gang's headquarters, a gang that's already killed  _ one Jedi knight _ !”

“I'm glad you're paying attention.”

“If we— against  _ every  _ indication to the contrary— get out of this  _ alive,  _ you  _ are  _ planning on getting that guy into Witness Security,  _ right _ ?”

Anakin shrugged.

“Anakin, you can't just  _ beat people up.  _ It's an abuse of your authority as a cop, not to  _ mention  _ as a Jedi! With anger issues like yours, why aren't you out there fighting the war where you could kill bazillions of people every day?”

Anakin snarled at the insinuation that he would  _ want  _ to. “The military isn't mandatory for Jedi, kid. They asked for volunteers. Want to know why I'm not out there right now?  _ I didn't volunteer. _ ”

Ahsoka seethed under his insulting tone. “You're fripped up. You know that?”

“So you keep telling me.”

“You're a  _ terrible cop _ !”

“And a terrible master too. Make sure you remember that when the Council asks if you want to stay with me.”

She hissed out something that sounded rather like a curse.

“Stay close and try not to do anything stupid,” he directed.

She snorted. “Yep. I think you've got that part plenty well covered. Force, you should lose your job.”

“We're here,” Anakin announced as they reached the warehouse. “Keep your mouth shut if you want to survive.”

And for the first time ever, she listened.

Anakin walked right up to the door, and when a giant Rodian tried to intimidate him out of the way, Anakin broke his fingers and sent him rolling in the dirt. The two guys who moved in next ended up with broken legs.

The kid behind him was trying to stifle horror as she stuck to his back like she'd been tied there.

The warehouse was one giant room, with crates stacked around the edges. Light fell only in the center, and that is where Anakin headed, sensing the seething of lifeforms moving behind the crates all around.

“We're surrounded,” Ahsoka whispered.

He didn't bother to respond.

A human male strode out to meet them, flanked by a trandoshan.

“What can I do for a Jedi?” the man asked, betraying a Core Worlds accent.

“I'm looking for the men who killed a Jedi eleven years ago.”  
“We didn't kill a Jedi eleven years ago.”

Anakin sneered at him. “Game's up. I know this gang's responsible, and I'm not leaving until everyone in that room when Obi-Wan Kenobi was murdered has been handed over to me.”

The Trandoshan stepped forward, but his boss stopped him with an outstretched hand.

“I want to find who's responsible for that too,” he said.

Anakin tilted his head. “Is that an admission that you don't have control over your own guys, Lorec?”

“It wasn't my guys.”

“Wasn't your guys.” Anakin chuckled. “Right, right. Forgot about that part. They all had alabis. Squeaky clean.”

Lorec narrowed his eyes. “We don't kill Jedi. It's stupid, and because your Order thinks we killed one of their own, they've been crashing my businesses whenever they get the chance, even  _ going out of their way  _ to search for any sign of  _ some reason  _ to set me back. They've made life  _ hell  _ and business  _ painful.  _ It's  _ unlivable. _ So I wish you best of luck in your hunt, Jedi, so you can prove our innocence.”

“Why are you even  _ bothering _ ?” Anakin demanded. “We were  _ investigating  _ your gang, and then my  _ master  _ ends up killed by  _ your men  _ using  _ your signature weapon— _ ”

“Investigating us, huh? Is that what you think was going on?”

“ _ I remember  _ it,” Anakin snarled.

Lorec caught hold of that with glinting eyes. “What? What is it you  _ remember _ ? Because my guys  _ remember  _ things too, things that  _ couldn't have happened. _ ”

This was a waste of time. He should just wipe them all out, he should—

He reached into his memory for just one more retort.

And came up with...

Anakin stilled, his face going blank as he tried to remember  _ any  _ details about the investigation. How had it started? Where had they been searching? Who were they following?

He knew with utter  _ conviction  _ that's what they'd been doing—

But he couldn't come up with  _ any  _ facts.

It knocked the fight clean out of him, leaving only... absolute confusion in its wake.

Lorec watched him, then gave a nod and took a step closer. “The guys the Order grabbed eleven years ago? We alibied them out because they  _ weren't there _ when your master was killed. But they  _ remember  _ doing it anyway. Your Jedi brothers sensed it, but since my guys wouldn't talk and the evidence showed they  _ couldn't  _ be responsible, they could do nothing. So tell me this. Why do my guys remember what  _ didn't  _ happen, and why  _ can't  _ you remember what you're so sure  _ did  _ happen?”

Anakin stared at him for a long moment, stunned by the truth that surrounded Lorec in the Force.

This was a cry for help. An honest,  _ frustrated to hell  _ cry for help.

Anakin turned around and headed back for the door.

No one made a move to stop him.

Other than Ahsoka trotting after him...

No one made a move at all.

 

* * *

 

He thought Ahsoka had been trying to talk at him for most of the trip back.

He wasn't entirely sure.

He didn't even realize where he was going until he found himself stepping into the bullpen. His feet must have been on autopilot.

His every faculty was wrapped up in trying to  _ remember _ , to chase down something,  _ anything— _

His path was blocked by someone who lit up the Force with silent fury.

His gaze tracked up to find Chief Turic.

“My office,” she said, deceptively unconcerned. “Now.”

Anakin followed her in and shut the door. Once again, Ahsoka stood by his side. This time, infinitely more uncertainty wavered off her in the Force.

“Do you know what's happened so far this morning? A man walked in to give a statement that would take down Malfide Tua for murder, and the entire Drung gang for all kinds of wonderful things that has our friends in other departments drooling for joy. The only things he demanded in return were Witness Security— which Organized Crime fell all over itself to agree to— and, I quote,  _ just keep the cop with the scar over his eye away from me. _ What the _ hell  _ did I say, Skywalker?”

Anakin pulled himself out of his daze. “Organized Crime gets to take out the Drung clan after years of putting it on their Life Day lists. Spice will have all kinds of fun too. We get our killer. Stenski can wrap it up, take the glory.”

“So you're satisfied, now that you've got your personal revenge against Drung  _ outside  _ the justice system?”

“I didn't kill anybody.”

She clearly wasn't impressed. “Skywalker, I saw the marks on that man. You're lucky he didn't turn you in for Internal Affairs to tear apart, because you have  _ no  _ leg to stand on. You can't go  _ off  _ like that! It's why I told you to stay  _ out  _ of it.”

“I know.” Anakin couldn't find any ire to meet hers with.

Her expression showed no hint of sympathy or help. “If you won't follow direct orders, you will no longer be part of this precinct,  _ do  _ you understand? This is your only warning. I can't have some overpowered asshole beating people up at the drop of a hat. I will  _ not  _ have  _ my  _ cops doing that, no matter  _ what  _ provocation they think they've received.  _ Have I made myself clear _ ?”

“Yes, Sir.” He felt absolutely  _ nothing. _

“For now you're on suspension for an indefinite amount of time, and you're going back to Iyana.”

That one stung a bit. “Yes, Sir.”  
“If you miss  _ one  _ appointment with her, you're going to be sent packing, and I will let Internal Affairs have their way with you.”

Anakin bowed, a Jedi gesture he hadn't used in this situation...  _ ever _ ...

“Dismissed.”

Anakin turned to go.

“You're a good cop, Skywalker.” Turic's voice gentled. “Get your kark together.”  
“Yes, Sir.”

He didn't bother to stop by his desk on the way out. He simply moved to get away.

“Did she mean it?”

The small voice at his elbow surprised him. He hadn't realized Ahsoka could sound quite so... sobered.

Some irrational part of him decided it deserved a sober answer. “Yes, Ahsoka.”

“You've never been in trouble like this before?”

“Not like this.”

She held her peace almost until they escaped the building, and then Ahsoka announced, “You're going to lose your job and get investigated for assaulting people.”

“I don't  _ know,  _ Ahsoka.”

“Who is Iyana?”

“The department's shrink. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see me again.” He could hear the attempt at humor fall flat with his own dread. The woman was nice, genuinely wanted to help him, but nothing ever got  _ better... _

Ahsoka walked by his side, emitting grimness all through the Force. “You know, I almost think you  _ should  _ get fired. And investigated for what you did to that guy.”

“Shut up, Ahsoka.”

“Is it true about your memories?”

He sent her a defeated look. “I don't know.”

“I thought for sure you were going to murder everybody in the place, and then you just completely deflated. And you're not even making fun of me anymore.”

“That's when you know it's bad, huh?”

She shrugged. “So are you going to lose me and get drunk?”

He sent her a sideways glance. “And that would help this...  _ how _ ?”

“Well, if you can't remember, then you can't do anything, right?”  
“Not true,” he challenged, his pride finally stung by her assumption of his helplessness. “I could—” and then he realized what would be said, so he quit.

“You could what?”

“Something I'd do alone.”

Ahsoka sighed. “So I get left behind, same as if you were out breaking bottles over people's heads.”

“Pretty much.”

“Just...” Ahsoka's hesitant fingers on his elbow had him pausing and looking around. “Please don't do anything to get kicked out.”

She had big eyes. And she looked so... vulnerable. “Why would you care?” he asked, baffled. His words had no bite in them.

“I don't want you to lose your job.”  
He didn't know what to do with that.

He didn't know what to do with  _ any  _ of it.

He took Ahsoka back to the Temple and dropped her off at the massive stairs.

“So... you're leaving. I've got until lunch, and then all afternoon. What am I doing?”  
“Whatever you feel like. Call it research if anybody asks.”  
She gave him an unimpressed look, but worked her way up the steps.

Everything about her seemed drooped. This wasn't the painfully optimistic kid who'd been dropped in his lap yesterday.

_ Kark. I've messed her up already. _

Deep in gloom, he waited until Ahsoka disappeared within the Temple before he worked his way back to the Cheep Food Joint.

This time, even with every seat in the place filled, his table was open.

He slid into his chair, relieved about it to an embarrassing extent.

When Metalla came to take his order, he sent her a rueful grimace. “Knew I was going to be a wreck?”

“You were pretty worked up yesterday.”

“Yeah.” Anakin dragged his metal hand through his hair. “Got worse today.”

She nodded. “Figured it wasn't going to get  _ better. _ ”

“Thanks.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Nothing like a little positive thinking.”  
She perched on the edge of his table. “So. Did you find the guys who killed your master?”  
“Yeah. And No.”  
“That complicated, huh?”  
“Worse.”

“Why are you here and not in a bar?”

He sighed. “Because now I've got to come up with some sort of plan. And alcohol isn't conducive for me planning.”

“This is true.”  
“I don't even know where to start.” Anakin shook his head. “There's... something weird, and it's probably  _ nothing,  _ it's probably just a  _ feint  _ so he could get his guys out of there without them all dying, he just cold read my micro expressions and played me for all I was worth.”

“Or?”  
He scowled at her. “There shouldn't be an  _ or. _ ”

“There usually is one, somewhere. Hell, I'd be pole dancing for nothing, trying to work off invisible, massive debts if you couldn't find an  _ or  _ where people said there wasn't one.”  
Anakin made a weak smile. “You managed to fight your way out of your hell.” And yeah. He sounded just a bit wistful.

“If something doesn't make sense or doesn't add up, don't just accept it. Start at the very beginning and see if you can't find out where the missing piece is. You'll fight your way out of your hell one of these days.”

He snorted. “Getting  _ out...  _ going back to the beginning is going to be the  _ opposite  _ of getting  _ out.  _ It'll be going  _ deeper. _ ”

“Sometimes the way out isn't the one we thought. Running away might just take you in circles. The exit might  _ be  _ as deep as you can get.”

_ You know what...  _ “You might be right.”

“No kark.” Metalla mock scowled.

He gave her a grin that didn't reach his eyes. “On the bright side, you're better than any Mind Healer. And I think I could be considered an expert on the subject.”  
“Yeah, well, that might be because you  _ listen  _ to me. You tune  _ them  _ out.”

He stood, moving for the door. “Sorry. What was that? I stopped listening a couple minutes ago.”

“Get the frip out of here, Skywalker.”

As he stepped away from the door screeching shut behind him, the smile that touched Anakin's face actually reached his eyes.

 

* * *

 

When Jocasta saw him enter the archives, she didn't even come over.

She knew what he was after.

He settled at one of the stations and pulled up the old reports and transcripts and  _ everything  _ else related to...  _ that  _ time.

_ Anonymous tip sent the Jedi to find me. _

By the time they reached him, the body was already cold.

And Anakin Skywalker hadn't looked once. He'd clung to the leather of his master's boot, and wept for nearly two hours, according to the ME.

He hadn't known what to do, where to go.

_ I didn't know where I was. _

But that was because Drung members had captured he and Obi-Wan and conveyed them to a new location, right?

_ The evidence all pointed to us investigating the gang, so that's what went in the reports. And when they asked me if that's what happened, I said yes. Why did I say yes? _

Because it had felt right.

_ It feels familiar, it feels known, but that's it. I have no further connection to it. _

Had his brain done some sort of disassociation thing? Had he distanced himself from something traumatic?

_ Maybe. But that doesn't explain the others' memories. _

His gaze fell upon the crime scene holos from when he'd been rescued.

Obi-Wan hadn't wanted him to see his dead body.

_ Did you know what a strangled corpse looks like? _

Anakin had been eighteen before he managed to actually get his hands on the full police files. Knighthood and his own place in the 37 th precinct had allowed him access to everything. But even with the final pieces, he hadn't been able to solve his master's murder.

Obi-Wan had tried to protect him from this, but by the time Anakin saw these, he already knew.

Ten years old, newly returned to the Temple, haunted by what had happened, he'd sought out information on strangulation. What  _ exactly  _ it was that killed you when it happened. Descriptions of how it felt.

What someone who'd died that way looked like.

It might have taken eight years before he looked his dead master in the face, but he'd already seen it countless times. The abrasions. The blown out blood vessels in the eyes—

Anakin dragged his focus away.

_ There's only one way to figure out how to get to the bottom of this. _

He gathered his courage, any humility he could find, and every ounce of determination— he was going to need  _ all  _ of it—

And headed for the Healers' wing.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Anakin stood in the center of Mind Healer Setira Elor's office, feeling awkward. This room held so many,  _ many  _ bad memories.

His gaze fell on a dent in the wall, made by his childhood fist.

_ “But he didn't even fight!”  _ he could hear himself screaming, his eleven-year-old lungs  _ burning  _ for oxygen.  _ “He just  _ took  _ it!” _

_ “The medical examiner found defensive wounds, Anakin. Do you know what that means? It means he  _ did  _ fight back. He fought very hard.” _

_ “No, he didn't! He stood there and told me he was going to die, and the men just stood around and waited for him to finish talking to me!”  
_ Pain built in Anakin's chest again. Apparently he  _ still  _ felt betrayed by Obi-Wan's quiet acceptance of his fate.

Age-old questions bombarded Anakin's mind.

_ Why didn't he fight? _

_We were unarmed, but wouldn't those chances have been better than to just let it happen?_

And the worst one of all...

_ Why didn't  _ I  _ fight? _

He'd been a scrawny little thing at the time, paralyzed in fear—

His lip curled in disgust,  _ hatred— _

He didn't know who he hated more. Himself, for feeling Obi-Wan dying and just  _ standing there, _ or Obi-Wan.  _ For not fighting for me. _

It went against  _ everything  _ he knew of his master. Everything.

Metalla's voice joined the noise in his head.  _ “If something doesn't make sense or doesn't add up, don't just accept it.” _

_ Obi-Wan had defensive wounds from a fight that didn't happen. I  _ know  _ it didn't happen, I  _ do  _ remember that. All the Mind Healers think I forgot that part. That my perception of time warped. But that's the one thing I  _ do  _ remember. _

_Time to stop doubting it._

A soft step in the door brought his head up. “What can I do for you, Knight Skywalker?”

“Setira.”  
“Please have a seat.” She settled herself on one of the couches, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up beside her.

_ Yeah. The whole laid-back approach never fooled me. _

They wanted to  _ pretend  _ comfort and safety.

_ It's all lies. _

The woman was hiding her surprise well, considering this was the first time Anakin Skywalker had ever voluntarily stepped through these doors, or any like them.

“I think I'm missing memories,” Anakin announced. “I want them back.”  
“Memories about... what?”

Anakin sighed. “About the mission that ended with Obi-Wan's death.”  
“From what I observed, you remember that time very well.”

Anakin winced. “Yeah. I remember him dying  _ plenty  _ well, as well as everything after that. But  _ before... _ there's stuff missing.”

“I assume you've read the reports—?”

“Written by people who weren't there.”  
“Based off of the overwhelming evidence and confirmed at the time by you.”  
Anakin sat on the other couch and leaned forward, his hands hiding in the sleeves of his trench coat. “Something is lost. Will you help me search for it?”  
“How were you intending on going about it?” she asked.

_ That  _ was a question he hadn't prepared for, and he knew it showed in his face. “Ahh... hypnosis?”

“Have you been watching holovids with your Padawan?” was Setira's amused response.

“ _ No,  _ wait— you know about Ahsoka.” He scowled. “Of  _ course  _ you know about Ahsoka.”

She gave him a winning smile.

“ _ And  _ you know what kinds of vids she likes. That's just... creepy.”

“And asking me for hypnosis  _ isn't _ ?”

“No, it's not, because it has relevance to the topic at hand. Ahsoka is  _ not  _ my Padawan, and she has nothing to do with this.”  
“Alright.”

Force, how he  _ hated  _ how easily she let that go.  _ Like I'm a complaining kid who will come around to a different point of view eventually. _

Well, he was _here,_ wasn't he? And he'd sworn he'd _never_ come here of his own free will?  
_I can consider my degrading moral values later. Right now I need deeper access into my brain._ “How do I access lost memories since hypnosis is apparently a joke?”  
“Not a joke, just not very useful for Jedi. Meditation, Anakin.”  
Anakin closed his eyes and sighed. “Any tips in particular for what I'm after?”  
He could sense her heart's murmur of surprise.

_ Yeah, yeah. Me choosing meditation. It's raining on Tatooine. _

“The memories that you feel you've lost. How do you know they exist?”

“I just  _ do, _ ” he growled.

She shook her head. “You misunderstand me. I'm not doubting their existence. I'm asking you how they feel. Can you see their outline, or is it something you can't quite seem to place a finger on? Do you have an impression or feeling of what happened during that time?”

“It feels like I have a script in my head that goes  _ this is what happened _ , and when I try to deviate from the script, it get slippery. Like there's nothing actually  _ there. _ ”

Setira frowned. “That is... unusual.”  
“Unusual how?”

“If we were talking about memories about Obi-Wan's death, I would be inclined to think you had locked them away behind a mantra you'd created for yourself. Your script. However, since you  _ didn't  _ do that for his dying moments, I am puzzled why you would have done so before.”  
Anakin grimaced. “You're not going to suggest abuse, are you? I swear, if someone starts in on  _ that  _ again—”

“They checked both you and Obi-Wan on your return. Neither of you were sexually assaulted.”

“So... what could be worse than Obi-Wan dying?”

She worried her lip with her teeth. “I don't know.”

_ Great. _

“I want to warn you, Anakin. This process likely will take time, and the memories may not surface all at once. They may present as flashbacks, or, given your history, very vivid dreams.”

Anakin felt the blood drain from his face. It had taken so  _ long  _ to best the nightmares...

“Do you feel ready to open the door to dreams again?”  
Everything within him rebelled, but he opened his mouth and said, “Yes.”

_ And now we're fripped. _

Desperation was a funny thing, in a very humorless sort of way.

 

* * *

 

Anakin knelt in the Garden of Memory, staring at the graceful stand that held the holo of Obi-Wan.

He hadn't had the courage to release it. Right now it was harmless, a disk with no statue.

He closed his eyes.

He hated meditation because he couldn't guide his focus well enough to get anything actually accomplished. His mind wandered, he grew bored, and the boredom overtook everything.

_ You're going to focus this time. _

He reached out for his certainty over the Drung mission. Yep. Quite firm. He slipped into the Force, allowing it to flood his senses and mind.

Smell didn't matter. Taste, touch, hearing.

Each one he shut off, leaving his mind quiet and dark.  _ What's in here? _

Anakin tried to let the script float, tried to peer around it, climb over it, squirm underneath it.

Each time he succeeded, but he found absolutely nothing on the other side.

He returned to his side of the construct and considered it.

Reaching inside it resulted in nothing because there  _ was _ nothing inside it. Looking at it from here, it seemed bursting to the seams with promise.  _ Plenty  _ was behind there. He reached his hand to it again, and it slid over the outside.

_ Because it's flat. It's a painting. _

He stepped around it one last time, but the emptiness spoke louder than anything else.

_ There is nothing here. I'm not looking in the right place. _

He tried accessing the memory closest to Obi-Wan's death, on the living side. He felt his eagerness to go see the  _ stars,  _ Obi-Wan, there's so  _ many,  _ he wanted to start working his way through seeing each one.

Obi-Wan's beautiful smile, his reassurance of  _ soon, you will walk the skies, my Padawan. _

The memory fripping  _ hurt. _

He was going to kill Metalla when he saw her next. This was going to be utter hell.

The frustration kicked him out of his head, and he could feel the cramp in his knees, the ache in his neck.

_ Kark. _

He moved to sit cross-legged, rested his palms on his knees, stretched his neck, and tried again.

He drew in a deep breath.  _ This only works if you're calm, Skywalker. _

And that, of course, was why he was so terrible at this.

_ It's your lack of skill that makes you hate it so much,  _ a small voice accused.  _ If you could do it well, you wouldn't mind it. It's your pride that makes it so— _

_ Shut up. Shut up. I'm trying to  _ clear  _ my mind. Not fill it with pointless kark. _

Another deep breath.

Anakin slowly relocated his memory.

Obi-Wan had something that was keeping him on Coruscant. Something he was nibbling away at, worrying it like a rodent would a bone.

_ What was it? _

Anakin hadn't been paying much attention. He could sense his total lack of interest when Obi-Wan tried to speak of it.

But that couldn't explain the blank bits whenever Obi-Wan opened his mouth about it.

_ It's like... it's been ripped out. _

Anakin followed the memories as they became more and more just clips. Lunch. Then lunch again. Then lunch two days later. And then nothing, until—

_ “Anakin.” _

There was a waver in Obi-Wan's voice that terrified his apprentice. Anakin tried to look—

_ “Don't turn around. Hold still, Anakin.” _

Anakin felt the cold of the room, the harsh tiles beneath his feet, the heartbeats of men around the room, the terrible resignation in his master's soul.

_ “I need you to do something for me.” _

“No!”

Anakin lunged from the meditation, gasping for air and trembling, his body almost convulsing in terror.

He could  _ not  _ live through that again,  _ not—  _

Not if he  _ never found out  _ what the hell had happened, he could  _ not  _ go there again—

Cradling his knees to his chest he buried his face in them, shoulders shaking, eyes burning.

Gradual awareness of a humming sound reached his overloaded brain.

Anakin's eyes traveled upward, despite his dread.

During his meditation, he must have triggered the holo statue.

Above the small plaque commemorating his loss, Obi-Wan stood, an unfettered smile on his face.

Anakin stared at it, at the quiet joy in his eyes.

And then he traced traced the line of Obi-Wan's gaze with his own...

Down to the small Padawan clinging to Obi-Wan's hand, mouth open in mid-chatter, small face alight with love and hope.

_ I looked like Ahsoka when she came to me. _

“Is that him?”  
He hadn't realized Ahsoka had come to stand behind him, but somehow her presence didn't startle him either. To some primal, unthinking part of himself, it made sense. “Yeah.”

“He looks young.”

“Too young,” Anakin whispered.

Ahsoka sat beside him, remaining silent for a long time before raising sober eyes to his. “I felt something. It was like an ache deep in my bones. I followed it here. I've never felt anything like that before. You're the only one here, so it must have been you.”

A pang shot through Anakin's soul. It took several moments before he could trust himself to speak.

“That's what it feels like when your master is in pain, and afraid.”  _ And dying. _

Her gaze found Obi-Wan again. “Was he afraid?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Of dying?”  
“I always thought so, but now...” Anakin rested his chin on his knees. “I have this feeling it might have been of something else.”

Silence again.

When Ahsoka spoke, he could sense a little fear along with a vast sea of  _ no idea what comes next. _ “What does it mean, that I sensed you like this?”  
“It means we're bonded.”

More silence.

“I thought you didn't want me.”  
The words opened a door Anakin hadn't touched in a long time.

_ “Do you want  _ me,  _ Master?”  
“Yes, Anakin.” _

_ “I know you're  _ keeping  _ me, but... Master Qui-Gon made you promise it.” _

Obi-Wan kneeling so Anakin could have free access to seeing his face. His face so earnest,  _ needing  _ Anakin to believe, to see.

_ “I want you, Anakin. You are the greatest gift Qui-Gon ever gave me. I am so thankful he asked me to train you.” _

The terrible sensation of feeling unwanted melting away beneath the warmth of Obi-Wan's Force embrace, as if he were hugging Anakin's heart.

_ “It is my greatest desire to walk by your side until you are ready to walk on your own, and then I hope to serve beside you as knights together.” _

_Then why did you leave me?_

Anakin's heart wailed against how  _ happy  _ he'd felt then, even as he  _ knew. _

The claws of rejection that he'd so feared back then, he'd sunk deep in Ahsoka's heart.

“A Master and Padawan can't bond unless both want it.” Anakin looked over at her, seeing the insecurity in her eyes, the fear he would throw her to the mat again.

He wanted to soothe it away, never see it again.

He drew in a deep breath. “Apparently my heart feels differently than my head thinks it does.”  
“You're not just saying that?” Ahsoka asked, sounding doubtful.

He sent her a weak attempt at a smile that didn't even reveal teeth. “We still have a day and a half to figure out if my head is just slow or beyond redemption. Though I'm stunned you'd still want me after everything.”

Her gaze searched his, silently asking  _ do you really not know? _

“There's something that says it's right,” she said at last. “A little voice that says I'm home when I'm standing by your side.” She shook her head. “That's why I left my family when Plo came for me all those years ago. He was different from everything I'd ever known, but I  _ knew  _ he meant home.”  
Anakin winced. “Yeah, well, your little compass may have glitched when it latched onto me. I'm a rather dysfunctional home to choose.”

“Yep. I'm going to have to break you of punching witnesses in the nose.”

He gave a sharp bark of laughter.

And in the space of one heartbeat, he knew what Ahsoka was talking about, because he felt a corner of his soul that always felt empty now felt full, with him sitting beside her.

_ Is this what Obi-Wan meant? It doesn't matter who sent her to me, how she got here, how rocky the start may have been, because she's here now, and... I don't want her to leave? _

 

* * *

 

_ This is a dream. This has  _ got  _ to be a dream. _

There was a massive snake circling him, watching him with vicious, flaming eyes.

_ This isn't at all metaphorical. _

It  _ bit  _ him. Force  _ damn  _ it all, dreams aren't supposed to include actual  _ pain,  _ what the frip?

An arrow pierced the snake's heart.

_ Yeah, okay. I  _ get  _ it. Can we move on— _

And then it was Obi-Wan leaning heavily in his arms, the arrow through  _ his  _ heart, and suddenly, this wasn't funny anymore.

“Kark—  _ kark— _ ”

Anakin eased him to the ground,  _ knowing  _ this wasn't real, it wasn't  _ him,  _ but unable to treat the illusion with anything less than absolute tenderness.

“Obi-Wan,” he whimpered, trying to drink in the warmth of the eyes that would leave him again in a moment, trying to burn their love into his heart—

Obi-Wan's mouth was moving, but Anakin couldn't make out his words. He leaned close, placed his ear to Obi-Wan's lips—

“Delve too deep,” Obi-Wan rasped. “Delve too deep.”

“What did?  _ We  _ did?”

But Obi-Wan was choking, the familiar,  _ hated  _ sound, and Anakin grit his teeth, bowed his head, and waited for it to be over.

He awoke with a wretched gasp for air, all desire for further sleep driven far away.

_ Setira wasn't joking about the dreams. _

Well, if he wouldn't be getting any decent sleep until after he found the answer to his mystery...

Anakin rolled out of bed, hit the floor, sat upright, the sheets tangled around him, and reached for meditation.

This time, he thought of the words Obi-Wan had given him.

There was a low-toned ring about them that had Anakin afraid.

But fear was nothing new to Anakin Skywalker.

It had never stopped him before...

He wasn't about to let it start now. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Anakin stood at the edge, peering down into the abyss.

After less than a meter, the light could no longer reveal what might lie in wait down there.

Anakin wasn't even comfortable standing  _ this  _ close, knowing something could reach up and drag him down.

_ I've seen enough horror vids to know how this works. _

He knew some of the things he'd sent down there, banishing them and hoping they wouldn't return. Every once in a while they'd crawl back up only to be sent away again.

The feeling of hunting down a four-year-old Tusken. Sensing its terror, it's confusion, the desperate screams for its mother.

The way his lightsaber felt when it left the child in two pieces on the ground.

The blind rage of the mother, who hadn't been able to save her little one. Leaving her wounded on the ground as he moved on to the others, knowing she would eventually succumb to her injuries.

Seeing her struggle to hold her dead child, just another unimportant happening out of the corner of his eye as he focused only on slaughter.

Anakin recoiled from the edge, shaking.

If he could go back,  _ take back— _

If  _ only  _ he could turn back time.

But that was also part of what was housed in the unspeakable depths.

The fear, the  _ knowledge,  _ that presented with the options again...

He wouldn't have the strength to resist.

Anakin retreated to the center of his mind, where faint light filtered in, holding his breath and trying to see every direction at once. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something  _ just behind him. _

And when he was being honest...

_ There is. _

He had his plateau of pretend safety, and if you moved too far in any direction you ended up confronted by the chasm.

_ “Delve too deep,”  _ Obi-Wan's words from his dream whispered through his mind.

_ Is it a warning? It felt like a warning. Did he and I delve too deep? Into what? Or is it him warning me against my brain? Don't delve too deep here? _

Anakin clutched at his head. “I can't  _ live  _ like this!” he yelled into the emptiness.

_ This  _ is why he hated meditating.

He'd told himself that it was because he wasn't good at it—

_ It's a lie. _

He could find this place inside.

He hated it because in meditation, he invariably saw  _ himself. _

He forced his feet to carry him back to the edge again. “You are  _ going  _ to figure out what happened and why.”

_ But do I really want to? _

He felt driven to see Obi-Wan's murderer brought down— either by justice or his own hand, he didn't much care—

That too was a lie, he  _ did  _ care, he spoke of law and cages and forfeiting freedom for a lifetime and prevention of harm to anyone else, but he didn't believe it. Not for Obi-Wan's killer.

What he needed was revenge. Not to make sure no one else ended up hurt, not to ensure people understood that society needed to live by certain rules, not because murder was wrong and should not go unchecked... but because someone had hurt Anakin. That someone needed to  _ suffer  _ just as terribly. Anakin  _ needed  _ to drag them down with him into the hell he inhabited.

_ But how much do I need it? _

He could walk away now. Never look into this. Allow that...  _ painting...  _ to remain. He could form some sort of life with Ahsoka, grab what snippets of happiness might filter in through the muck of his skies, let the monster sleep in peace.

Or...

_ I can go down there and let loose everything. _

His worst nightmares. His worst self. The truth, and a reality that might not even exist—

_ What will I become? _

How badly did he need to make the man who killed Obi-Wan suffer? How much pain was he willing to inflict on himself to see it done?

He wavered at the edge.

_ “Delve too deep.” _

_Yes, Obi-Wan. I'm going to delve too deep._

_I might never come out of it._

He felt gratitude, terrible and brief, that Obi-Wan wasn't here to see this.

_ And yeah. I see the irony of that. _

To avenge Obi-Wan's memory by shattering everything Obi-Wan had ever hoped for him, defiling the faith in Anakin of the person he loved more than anything... pissing all over his grave.

Anakin Skywalker hated himself.

He sat on the edge, dangled his feet...

Gripped the ledge with his hands to lower himself as deep as possible before letting go, hoping the landing at the bottom wouldn't break his mind to pieces.

Or maybe he would fall forever, and never even realize he'd been relegated to a padded room, foaming at the mouth and thrashing.

 

* * *

 

One moment he was falling, the next he wasn't. He wasn't sure he could call it a  _ landing,  _ though. He peered upward, and could no longer see the light he'd left. And all around him, visibility was even worse.

Whispers slunk behind him, scraping sounds in the dark.

He braced himself, teeth clenched, enduring the terror—

This wasn't what Obi-Wan had meant when he introduced Anakin to meditation. It probably wasn't what his Mind Healer had meant either.

He took a step forward into the night. Then another, another.

Hands outstretched before him, trying to sense  _ anything— _

All he could feel was life that wasn't life. There were forms moving around him, hunting him, but they weren't  _ alive.  _ They were something in between.

His foot hit something. Looking down, he discovered half of a tiny body. The flies had gotten to it, the stench hit him like a wall. Somehow he could see it, but the light didn't extend into the surrounding area.

He heard screams. Pleas for mercy. Words.

He didn't know where they came from. The Tuskens hadn't spoken. These voices sounded human.

He took another step, found the other hip, two shoulders, and head. The mask covering the miniature Sand Child had fallen away, and Anakin found a human face there.

He recoiled in horror.

He may have killed Tuskens, but it wasn't like he'd killed  _ people— _

They were primitives, barely more than  _ animals— _

Hell, he'd heard of people hunting them and stuffing them to put in private taxidermy collections.

The mother crawled towards her child, ignoring the agony it inflicted on her to do so, and Anakin could sense her heartbreak. She  _ loved  _ her baby.

_ That can't be right. _

It  _ couldn't— _

He couldn't have done something so heinous—

She looked up at him, and the monster had  _ his  _ mother's face.

“Don't you fripping  _ dare _ !” he screamed, his lightsaber lashing out to wipe the mockery away. Skin sizzled, eyes blinded, the woman still struggled to her child, emitting  _ only  _ a desire for its well being, willing to endure  _ anything  _ for its sake—

“You were  _ nothing like my Mom! _ ”

A little boy Tusken stood, his mask also removed, eyes wide in horror as he watched his father.

Anakin saw himself twisting rope around the father's neck, heard the sounds that had haunted his footsteps for so long—

“I didn't  _ do  _ that!” Anakin begged, tears blinding his eyes as he realized the Tusken child had to be around ten.

The father fell to his knees, but he couldn't tear his eyes from his son's.

Unlike Anakin, this boy lunged for the killing Anakin, trying to beat him off with bare fists and the terrified, heartfelt need to  _ save— _

Anakin saw himself throwing the kid aside, not even injuring him, since more adults were arriving.

The boy scrambled to his now-dead father's foot, clutching his boot, sobbing, letting out great keening cries.

“How could you do it, Ani?”

Anakin turned around to find his mother standing there, looking so sad, so disappointed.

“Mom,” he choked, struggling to walk to her, but something was holding his feet down.

It was blood. The blood of the Tuskens had glued his feet fast and he couldn't move.

“How could you inflict on them the same pain you suffered?”

“They  _ killed you,  _ Mom—”

“No. A few of them did. You killed them all. You punished the innocent for the guilty. You inflicted your hell on children who'd done you no wrong, and had no way of fighting you off. You held children down and  _ made them like you. _ ”

“They would have  _ grown up to be— _ ”

All compassion fled from her eyes, going cold and hard. “Even now you justify yourself. Do you not believe that the man who held the rope for your master has his own justifications?  _ 'There are no bad people, Ahsoka. Just people.' _ ”

Anakin's throat went dry as he heard his mother throw his own words back in his teeth. “I...”  
“You  _ are  _ the man who closed the rope over Obi-Wan's throat.”

“That's not  _ true, _ ” he begged, reaching out for her. “Please  _ stop. _ ”

“You chose to become that man for other children. You killed their fathers. You tore apart their mothers.”

“ _ Please! _ ”

Shmi backed away from him. “You couldn't see their faces. You couldn't understand their language. You closed your ears to their suffering in the Force. You used the word  _ animal  _ so you could feel better than them.”

“They murdered a woman who'd never done them  _ any wrong _ , who was  _ no  _ threat to them—”

“I know, Sand Child.” Shmi turned away to leave him. “My own Tusken Ani.”  
He begged her not to leave him, but she disappeared.

So did all the rest.

Panting, trembling, face covered in tears, Anakin struggled to find strength to go on.

He took one step, then another.

He didn't know what direction he was facing now— he could be going in circles, he'd never know.

_ I must find my answer. _

“Those who inflict such pain deserve to die,” a voice mocked him from somewhere. “Isn't that how you live? Meting out death in exchange for wrongs? Sword of righteousness in your hand, a fury of vengeance in your eyes?”  
Anakin tried to ignore the voice and kept forward.

The next time it spoke it was closer, but on his other side. It sounded like it slithered right by his elbow. He shied away from it. “Those who inflict such pain must die, says Anakin Skywalker.”  
_ Keep forward. Keep forward. _

“So why aren't you dead yet?” Hot breath against the back of his neck.

Anakin spun around, fist lashing out to try to beat away the voice.

He found nothing.

“Force  _ damn  _ you!” he hissed.

He took another step, found himself confronted with Padmé, staring at him in horror.

“You did  _ what _ ?”

He could hear the memory of his voice ringing through the emptiness. “I killed them, I killed them all. They're dead. Every single one of them. And not just the men, but the women, and the children too. They're like animals, and I  _ slaughtered  _ them like animals. I  _ hate  _ them!”

“How  _ could you _ ?” she shot back, fire in her eyes. “How many Shmi's did  _ you  _ murder today? How many children lost  _ their  _ mothers?”  
“It's not the  _ same _ ! They're  _ savages,  _ they're not even—”

Anakin grit his teeth against the memory, willing it to  _ stop,  _ to go  _ away— _

“They're  _ people _ !” Padmé thundered. “You've become  _ just like them. _ ”

“ _ No,  _ they  _ made me this _ .”  
Padmé searched his face, looking for  _ something,  _ but he didn't know what. “I completely misjudged you,” she said at last. “You are not who I thought you were.”  
“ _ Padmé— _ ”

“You need to turn yourself in. When we get back to the Republic, you need to confess and take the consequences.”  
“You don't know what they'll do to me—”

She shook her head. “Then you should have thought of that before you started killing.”  
“I don't— I made a  _ mistake,  _ Padmé, don't walk away from me—”

“I'll believe it was a mistake the day you confess and submit to your just due.”  
“I'm barely of  _ age,  _ Padmé—”

“If you're old enough to murder, you're old enough to accept the consequences.”

“They'll  _ lock me up  _ somewhere, I'll never  _ fly  _ again—”

He found no compassion in her face. “Are you going to kill me now, to protect your secret?”

He could sense,  _ remember  _ his stunned disbelief. “You can't  _ possibly—  _ I  _ love  _ you, I would never  _ hurt you _ !”

“I hope that's true. Because I'm going to be turning my back to you and walking out of here.”

His voice whispered after her. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“I'm going to give you a week to do the right thing, Anakin. After that, I'm going to the Jedi Council. I will not be party to murder.”  
“You  _ wouldn't  _ be, they're already  _ dead— _ ”

“I'm not willing to sear my conscience like that, Anakin. I want to be able to look my mother in the face, look myself in the eyes in a mirror and know I didn't betray myself.”  
Anakin cringed as he heard himself throw petulantly back, “You don't love me!”  
“To love you and  _ not  _ insist this be made right? That wouldn't be love at all, Anakin. That would be an utter betrayal of you, and of  _ two  _ men and a woman who believed in you with all their hearts and died believing.”

“If I'm locked up, I can't make up for it. I can't do good to redeem— I lock up murderers every  _ day,  _ Padmé, how does locking  _ me  _ up help  _ anyone _ ? Think of all the good I can do free, and all the murderers who will run free if I don't go back and—”

“Anakin, I've told you what I'm going to do. Now it's up to you to decide what you will do.” Padmé disappeared as she walked away.

All fell dark and still again.

Anakin heaved a sigh and continued on.

The voice returned. “Were you relieved when she died in the Geonosis arena?”

“Shut  _ up _ !” Anakin yelled at it.

It chuckled. “So much better to grieve for her, than to be caged right now. Oh, wait... I forgot. You don't believe in caging people who murder others' fathers and mothers. You believe in killing them.”  
“Go away.” Anakin lowered his head and pushed forward—

The voice changed sides again, chasing his heel. “Such a pity about the young Senator from Naboo.”

“I  _ loved  _ her, worm!”

“I'm so glad you honored her memory by doing the right thing.”  
“Frip you.” Anakin clamped his jaws closed and kept going.

There. In the distance.

He could see them.

_ Finally. _

But even that relief was overshadowed by an even heavier weight of dread.

Obi-Wan stood, watching his Padawan, tears in the older's eyes, his hand outstretched as he spoke, as he soothed, as he directed.

Anakin's younger self shivered, tears streaming down his face—

Anakin understood now. He needed to walk through this memory; he couldn't change it, they couldn't see him and understand how things had changed. He needed to get through it, and perhaps on the other side, it would all make sense.

He kept forward and had almost reached them when Obi-Wan turned to look at him.

Anakin's heart leaped into his throat and he stumbled back with a curse.

Obi-Wan took a step towards him.

“Stay the  _ frip back _ !” Anakin yelped at him, terror seizing his limbs.

Obi-Wan stared right into his eyes. “This is too deep, Anakin. Turn back.”  
“What are you?”

There was something different about this one. It wasn't like the voice, it wasn't like the mother who accused him, it wasn't like the shifting of each memory made physical.

_ This is... this is real. _

“I am not your master, Anakin. I am an adapting memory left here by him.”  
Anakin stared at him, his heart  _ aching  _ at the sound of that voice, those kind eyes.

“What happened to us?” Anakin asked. “What were we doing?”

“Delving too deep,” Obi-Wan said, his expression full of sorrow. “We looked somewhere we shouldn't.”

“Into  _ what _ ?”

“Anakin, I erased your memory of that time.”  
“ _What_?”  
“I removed it, and I left in its place something to deflect you. Fiction. But since you're here, you've clearly rejected it.”  
Anakin blinked back tears. “For _years_ I've blamed Drung for this, and it's not even true?”  
“That is correct.”  
“Who set them up?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, heartbreak in his eyes. “Turn back. Please.” That last was in a tone almost begging. “I bought you life and freedom, please accept it—”

Anakin raised his chin. “You didn't fight. Why didn't you fight them?”  
“We were caught.” Despair filled Obi-Wan's eyes, sending knives into Anakin's heart. “We were far too deep, and we didn't realize it until far too late. We were going to die for it. I— begged for your life. I promised to make it so you wouldn't remember, so they were safe, their secret safe. I pointed out they would win in a battle— there were too many— but I would cause severe damage on my way out. I don't think they cared. But they granted my wish. They oversaw what I did, dictated the fiction. I placed this construct here because I feared—”

Obi-Wan's gaze searched Anakin's, fond,  _ loving— _

“I know how loyal you are,” Obi-Wan murmured. “How persistent.”

Anakin shook his head. “Master,” he whispered. It  _ felt  _ like Obi-Wan, and to experience that presence after  _ so long  _ a drought—

“You promised not to put up a fight, to just  _ die _ if they let me go.”

“Yes.”  
Tears slipped down Anakin's face. “You shouldn't have. We should have gone together.”

Obi-Wan reached out, brushed away the tears with his calloused thumb. “It's what any parent would do for their child, Anakin.” He gave a faint smile. “You've grown, so much—”

“Terrible things have happened because I lived. I grew up to do terrible things.”  
“The past cannot be changed, but you control your future.”

Anakin shook his head. “I'm going to find the one who did this to you.”  
Alarm spiked through Obi-Wan, desperate fear written all over him. Anakin could feel it in the Force.

“ _ Don't, _ ” he pleaded. “Please no, Anakin. This runs too deep. It will destroy you.”

Anakin sent him a sorrowful look. “I'm already destroyed, Obi-Wan. I destroyed me. Hell. Maybe Ahsoka's right and I should just join the war. Maybe I'd get lucky and take a bolt.”  
“You evade. You still intend to dig.” Obi-Wan peered over his shoulder. “I can't—”

Something dark and oily slithered through the back of Anakin's mind, a sensation worse than pain.

And he recognized it.

_ I've felt that before. _ He didn't know where.

Obi-Wan looked back to him, the despair worse. “I am a guardian, to keep you away.” Obi-Wan's eyes darted all around. “A safeguard, in case the lie fails—”

“ _ What were we investigating _ ?”  
“Not what I thought we were. It looked small. It didn't— it wasn't— I wouldn't have  _ brought  _ you into this if I'd known—”

“I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle this.”  
Obi-Wan's gaze snapped back to his eyes. “That's what I thought too. I was wrong. I was so wrong. Forgive me for what I've tangled you in.”

“I can't fight it if I can't know what it is.”  
“You can't fight it at all.”

Something was dragging Obi-Wan backwards, back towards the memory.

“Don't  _ go _ !” Anakin pleaded.

Obi-Wan's face crumpled. “Look away, Anakin.”  
“Not this time,” Anakin swore. “You're not going to be alone this time.”

Gratitude flooded Obi-Wan's eyes. “You've grown into the knight I knew you would be.”

“I really haven't.”

“Don't let your compassion go,” Obi-Wan urged. “Hold onto it with everything you've got—”

One of the men, all of them without faces, stepped forward, placing the rope around Obi-Wan's throat.

“Look at me, Obi-Wan, just keep looking at me,” Anakin choked.

Obi-Wan's eyes found his. “I wanted to be by your side. I wanted to see you grow up.”

“You're seeing me now. I  _ love you _ .”

“Be true to yourself,” Obi-Wan pleaded, “The little ember of light you harbor inside— in spite of everything—”

The rope bit into skin, pain spilled through Obi-Wan's eyes.

“I promise,” Anakin wept, moving forward until he was right there with him, holding Obi-Wan's face with his hands.

Obi-Wan's knees gave out, and Anakin followed him to the ground, holding him close.

“Thank you for loving me so much.” Anakin's voice, roughened by tears, was somehow calm. “For loving me this much.”

A strong hand caught his own, squeezing tight, tighter—

Anakin held his convulsing form through the thrashing, soothing him, finding his own spirit strangely calm.

“I've got you,” he crooned, “I'm not leaving.”

Obi-Wan's clothing shifted—

_ No,  _ no,  _ don't, please— _

It was a Tusken dying in his arms.

A Tusken child standing weeping, terrified and helpless with his back to them.

_ How can I soothe  _ his  _ end with all he's done? _

He could hear an echo of Obi-Wan's voice, thick with feeling.  _ “As you would me.” _

_But what if he's the one who killed my Mom?_

A breeze, warm and pure brushed his cheek, the first sign of anything not utterly decayed in this place.

There were words in the wind, near silent.

_ “You killed his mother too.” _

Anakin raised a trembling hand, then hugged the Tusken close.

He felt the man's pain, his fear, his grief, his confusion.

It reminded him so much of Obi-Wan's, of Anakin's own as he felt his master die—

He could feel a heartbeat, hear breathing—

_ A person. _

He felt the tiny child's anguish, a mirror of Anakin's own at the same age, he remembered how  _ terrible  _ being so  _ alone  _ felt— the helplessness, the  _ loss— _

_So much like me._

“I'm sorry,” Anakin sobbed, looking up at the child who now stared at them with such grief in his eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

The child wanted to comfort his father, but couldn't seem to move.

What would Anakin have given to have had a kind hand there with Obi-Wan while his master endured his final moments? That the last thing Obi-Wan had experienced was compassion?

He had the opportunity to do that for someone else.

Anakin looked to the man holding the rope.

It had Anakin's face. Cruel, pitiless.

_ I don't want to be you. I've been you too long. _

Anakin looked away from him, stroking the head of the man in his arms. “I'm not leaving,” he whispered. “You're not alone. I'm so sorry.”  
A second before silence stilled the death rattle, the figure melted back into Obi-Wan.

There was such love, pride, and faith in the blood-reddened eyes.

Obi-Wan tilted his head the three centimeters it took to press a kiss to the inside of Anakin's still living wrist.

And then he was gone, and Anakin was left holding a corpse.

It  _ hurt,  _ it hurt so  _ much— _

_ I cannot  _ endure  _ this kind of pain. Please— _

And then he thought of Obi-Wan, seeing  _ his _ master cut down. Remembered sensing Obi-Wan's utter agony of soul.

Remembered how he survived.

Remembered the gentle smile, the laughter.

_ Help me,  _ he begged, curled over Obi-Wan's body.  _ Help me be like you. _

_I don't ever want to betray you again._

_ Help me. _

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Anakin became aware of a pounding noise and a desperate voice.

“Master! Master, are you in there?  _ Anakin?  _ Anakin, _ please  _ answer!”

For one dizzy moment Anakin couldn't figure out where he was. He tried standing up, but the tangled sheets tripped him flat.

“I'm _ coming in,  _ Master!”

The door hissed open sending light from the hall into Anakin's eyes. He threw up an arm to protect against the glare as Ahsoka barged in.

“What were you  _ doing _ ?” she demanded. “Are you  _ alright _ ?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, removing himself from the sheets and stumbling up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“ _ Really _ ? Because that was  _ crazy kark  _ I was sensing, and—”

“I'm fine, Ahsoka.”

She watched him with worried, shriekhawk eyes. “You don't look fine.”

“Obi-Wan and I were investigating something and the Drung gang was framed. Obi-Wan tampered with my memories to keep me safe and believing the lie, and I'm not sure what we were  _ actually  _ investigating because the memory block Obi-Wan left was too personable and too solid. It completely derailed me.”

Yeah, he may have worked through some of his own kark, but  _ no,  _ he wasn't much closer to knowing  _ what the hell  _ they'd been doing before Obi-Wan died.

He gave grudging respect to the Obi-Wan his Master had left behind in his mind.  _ Not much can divert me when I'm searching for answers. _

Granted, it was only a temporary detour. He was already re-aiming his sights.

“What are we going to do about it?”

_ “This is too deep, Anakin, turn back.” _

_“Don't. Please, Anakin.”_

“We're going to find out what the hell is going on, and make sure the people responsible pay.”

“In a cage,” Ahsoka asserted, clearly worried about what his answer might be. “We'll catch them and put them in a cage. Not kill them.”

_ Sure, kid, if that's what you think. _

“Of course,” he lied with a bland smile he suspected Ahsoka didn't believe too terribly much.

He'd karked up when he killed the innocent along with the guilty.

Next time, he would be careful to separate the two.

“What are we doing today?”

“ _ I  _ am going to begin the investigation, and  _ you  _ are going to go to classes, or whatever people your age do when they're unsupervised.”

“You are a terrible guardian.”

Anakin snorted a laugh. “Yeah... maybe Yoda should have thought of that before sending you to me.”

“So how do we start? A murder timeline?” Ahsoka moved to the blank wall opposite the bed, brushed a finger against it, frowned at the dust now marring her skin. Shrugging, she swiped her forearm in an arc across the wall, and followed it with a quick black line with a marking pen she pulled from her belt.

“ _ What _ ?” Anakin yelped. “Why are you drawing on my  _ wall _ ? What are you,  _ three _ ?”

Ahsoka chuckled. “You  _ do  _ seem to think I'm a little kid.”  
“Force damn it, Ahsoka.”

“It's okay. I saw the one you made for the prostitute. Okay. Time of death here. When was that?”

“Nineteen hundred hours and three minutes.”

He watched her add the correct date and narrowed his eyes as he realized she must have found  _ that  _ on her own. 

There was something uncomfortably familiar about this kid.

“It was a Pentaday.”

Ahsoka's face lit up. “A Pentaday, and you were ten, and at the Temple. Make a list of the teachers you had, and let's see if you attended classes and where you went after!”

_ Time to track Obi-Wan's death just the same as any other murder. _

That's when the crushing weight in his spirit rose, just a little.

_ I'm good at finding murderers. _

He'd been wasting his time glowering at Drung, instead of doing what he'd  _ trained  _ to do.

_ Enough of that. _

Drung was meaningless now, except as a piece that fit into this puzzle.

Anakin stood, took the pen from Ahsoka, and made a mark before and after hers. “Last moment I genuinely remember, first I remember again.” Above, he scribbled the names of his various teachers and the subjects they taught.

“Would have had Tera Sinube with Underworld Criminology last on a Pentaday.”

“We going to talk to all of them anyway?”

“You bet your ass. There's an entire missing week of my life that we need to piece back together.” He snatched up his coat, flinging it around his shoulders.

Ahsoka watched him with an eager gleam in her eye. “After you, Master.”

And for the first time, he didn't mind her tagging along at his heels.

 

* * *  
  


“Master Sinube. I don't know if you remember me, I'm—”

“Anakin Skywalker.” The venerable Cosian's beak parted in a pleased smile. “Working alongside the CCPD.” A warm hand patted him on the arm, since Anakin's shoulder was quite a ways out of reach in the skyward direction.

“I'm wondering if you can tell me anything at all about the class of yours that I attended the day Obi-Wan Kenobi was killed.”  
Sadness entered the old eyes, and Tera eased himself from his cane into the seat behind his classroom desk.

“I taught him too, you know. Such a clever little bundle of light. But  _ oh  _ the mischief he could pull. Look at you with wide innocent eyes when you  _ knew  _ he'd been the one who did it. But don't let that fool you; he was a good kid. Kind and quick to empathize. Insatiably curious.” Again, a fond smile. “Asked questions about everything.”

Anakin felt his professional  _ cop  _ facade thinning. He wasn't here to learn things he didn't know about his master's childhood, but a victim's final steps.  _ Right now, he's not your dad. He's just a man who deserves justice. Want to bet it was that curiosity Sinube just mentioned that got him killed? _

“Do you remember the day in question?” Anakin asked aloud.

Ahsoka sent him a scowl, though he didn't know  _ why.  _ He hadn't used an inconsiderate tone.

Tera gave a sad nod. “It felt like any other. I turned in early to make up for missing my nap, and it was only the next morning when I heard the news.”

“Did Obi-Wan come to pick me up, or did I leave on my own after class?”

“Oh, you sped off as if on a mission, and not one you were very happy about.” Tera tapped at his cane with a clawed finger. “Several of the younglings had planned a get-together in the park near the Temple. Someone had gotten their hands on a basket of candied jogans. You were  _ very  _ upset to miss out on the party— especially the sweets— and were rather loud about it. I had to ask you to use your classroom voice.”

Ahsoka was staring at him with a  _ look  _ that screamed  _ predator  _ in Anakin's mind. She was going to follow the 'cute' lead to the end.

_ I'm in trouble now. _

Was it too late to send her back to Yoda?

“Why didn't I go? Obi-Wan usually encouraged me spending time with other younglings.”

Tera nodded. “Apparently he'd requested your presence directly after school. I was a little surprised you weren't just ducking out; I assumed you went to the party anyway?”  
They  _ both  _ looked at him, apparently expecting something.

Anakin shrugged. “I can't remember. But later that evening I  _ was  _ with the victim at the time of his death. Which direction did I go?”

“Left and down the hall.”

“Can you think of anything unusual, anything I might have said or asked about? Do you remember seeing Obi-Wan at all a week up to his death?”

“A week?” Sinube frowned. “I'm afraid that with no shock to cement something into this old brain... Ah. No, I am wrong. Your master wanted to know if I had accessed the Archives during certain days.”

“Do you remember which days?” Looks like he might be able to take more notes than he'd thought he'd get—

“No. I am terribly sorry.”

Anakin gave a nod. “If you remember anything, give me a comm.”

As the younger two made their way out of the room, Anakin trying not to look at the decorations and desks that reminded him of better days and the absolutely  _ hellish  _ ones that followed, Sinube called out his farewell.

“May you find what you are seeking, Anakin.”

“All I'm seeking are the names of the younglings who attended that party, Master.”

But the old one looked wise and secretive as he turned over those names.

As Anakin and Ahsoka strode down the hall— well,  _ he  _ strode, she trotted to keep up— she asked, “What did Master Sinube mean about  _ finding  _ what you seek?”  
“He thinks I'm on a journey of self-discovery.”

“Aren't you? Don't you want to find out who you were in the missing week?”

“Whoever that kid was, he's long dead.”

“You always see the world in the grimmest possible way. Why not say that version of you is  _ gone _ ? Why is it  _ dead _ ?”

“Because it died when Obi-Wan did.”

Ahsoka fell silent, and Anakin thanked the stars for it.

It only took a quick check to discover that of the thirteen younglings who had attended the park party, only one was currently on planet, and he was in a Council meeting at the moment. A couple were dead.

“Should we look into that?” Ahsoka wondered. “Could they have known something?”

“See those dates? They died in battle. This damned war is going to make tracking down witnesses even more difficult than usual for a decade-plus cold case. While we wait for Veld to be free, let's drop by the Archives.”

“Why?”

“Obi-Wan asked Tera about access dates. Maybe we can find out more.”  
It took a little hunting among the shelves to locate the chief librarian, but they did.

“Madame Nu. I am Knight Skywalker with the CCPD—”

“Ah, yes. The boy who wanted to read about detectives.” Nu cracked a smile. “What can I do for the two of you today?”  
“A few days to a couple weeks before he died, Obi-Wan Kenobi asked Master Sinube if he'd accessed the Archives on certain dates. Can you shed any light on this?”

Jocasta's brow furrowed. “I wonder.”

“What?” Anakin refused to get his hopes up.

The woman sent him an unconvinced  _ look.  _ “Knight Kenobi approached me wanting to know if a map had been altered.”  
“Altered?”  
“Yes. One of the Temple's maps. I assured him that couldn't be done without proper clearance, and wanted to know why he thought one had been changed. He said there was a blank space where he remembered a star.” 

“Can you show me the map?” Anakin asked.

Jocasta gave a short nod. “Certainly.” She led them into a small adjoining room. Anakin tried very carefully to not look the statue of Qui-Gon Jinn in the eye as the librarian triggered the holo. “He used to lie on the floor for hours, staring up at this.”

“Uhh, Master?” Ahsoka hedged.

Anakin sighed. “Yeah, I see it, Snips. He thought he could tell one was  _ missing _ ? Out of what, a couple hundred?”

“This is a very oversimplified map of the galaxy,” Jocasta agreed. “It's possible there  _ is  _ a planet where he thought there was one, he just saw it on a  _ different  _ map. He had no name, just a feeling something was missing.”

_ Master, your mind was quick. But I don't know that it was  _ that  _ quick. _

“Dead end?” Ahsoka asked.

_ Possibly not...  _ “Madame Nu, could you direct me to Obi-Wan's final research?”

“His what?”

“He had a very large stack of flimsis and charts. The day after his passing a knight or master came by the apartment, gathered them up in a box, and carried them down here to be filed.”  
Jocasta stared at him as if he'd gone mad. “No such thing was ever filed.”

“Maybe someone else did? The man who came for them, perhaps?”

“Who was this individual?”

Anakin shrugged. “I don't know.”

“I can assure you, no one logged in Obi-Wan Kenobi's papers, whatever they may have been about, so your visitor took them somewhere  _ else. _ ”

Anakin felt his skin crawl and wasn't sure it was due to Ahsoka's  _ there's something here, Master  _ stare. “Thank you for your time.”

“Certainly, Skywalker.”

As Jocasta left the room, Ahsoka poked Anakin in the arm. “ _ See _ ? Something was  _ really wrong _ . Somebody stole his files! We need to find them.”

“We need to find the man who took them first.”  
Ahsoka squinted up into the small blue worlds. “Is it possible he really knew this map well enough to know something ended up missing?”

“I don't know, Ahsoka. There was  _ something  _ in those files that made someone want them to disappear, made someone want to frame the Drung gang to cover up the murder.”

“If the head of the library couldn't help him, where would he go?”

Anakin felt his stomach drop out the bottoms of his feet. “You hungry, kid?”

“Sure. Why? You finally decide eating's worth your time?”

“We've got somewhere to be.”  
  


* * *

 

“What are we doing here?” Ahsoka whispered as Anakin set foot in a place he'd hoped to never visit again.

“What can I get you? Always happy to serve Jedi.” The massive Besalisk moving in their direction didn't look like he'd aged a day. Between that and the smells of the diner, Anakin found himself wanting to get out as quick as possible.

“I'm investigating something connected to the Obi-Wan Kenobi murder that took place several years ba—”

“ _ Ani _ ?”

Anakin grit his teeth. Here it came.

Four giant arms gathered him into a tight hug, then held him back by his shoulders so the diner's owner could peer at him. “All grown up.”

Anakin, still as stiff as when he'd been hugged, simply watched him in wary discomfort.

Ahsoka was  _ looking  _ at him again.

“I work for the CCPD now. Can you remember the last time you saw Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

Dex's eyes narrowed. “That's it? Not even a hello?”

“I'm on the job, Dex,” Anakin lied.

A flash of something part hurt and part indignation sparkled in the alien's eye. “You just stopped coming. You came by pretty often before, whenever you could get away from those missions you took. Just figured you were off planet. Took a year before I heard Obi-Wan died.”

Unable to stifle the surge of guilt that winced Anakin's eyes, the Jedi looked away. “New master. Pretty busy.”

Compassion and a little indignation in the Force around his Padawan suggested she both pitied the Besalisk, and saw through Anakin's falsehood.

Though he had no doubt Dex could as well.

_ Let's get this over with. _ “I have reason to believe that the Drung gang was not responsible for his death as previously thought, and that he was investigating something that got him killed.”

Dex let out a grim, “Oh,” and sat down.

Ahsoka slid onto the booth opposite his, but Anakin remained standing, arms crossed, wishing the collar of his coat could shield his face a little more.

Maybe he should wear a hat next time.

“Obi-Wan came to me, said he had a puzzle.”

Anakin pulled out of himself enough to ask, “When was this?”

“A week or a bit more before he  _ apparently  _ died.”

Ahsoka frowned. “What was this puzzle?”

Anakin sent her a scowl.  _ My questioning, kid. You're getting too cocky. _

“He showed me a map and said he thought something was missing. Wanted to know if I agreed.”

“Well?” Anakin asked when Dex seemed to wait for something.

Dex sent him another unconvinced look. “I'm not  _ that  _ familiar with the night sky from a planet I've never visited. I told him I couldn't help, but that he should trust his instincts. If he thought there had been something there, and it wasn't now, he should track down who would have access to alter such a thing.”

“Did he cross-reference public and Senate maps?”

“He had. Found several uninhabited planets possible, of course. Without extensive research on each and perhaps putting feet on the ground, it would have been impossible to know which. Most of them didn't even have names; just the scientific numbers assigned when recorded.”

“Yeah. Well something's clearly out there, since he was murdered and his research stolen.”

“Damn it, Obi-Wan,” muttered Dex.

Anakin turned, needing to get  _ out  _ of here. “Wasn't his fault.”  _ It was mine. He was trying to save me.  _ “Thanks for your help. If you think of anything else—”

“ _ Comm you.  _ I have experienced cops before, Ani.”

They'd been walking a while in silence before Ahsoka spoke up, glancing back at the diner fading in the distance. “He really misses him, Master. He was so sad.”  
“Why? 'Cause they hung out every once in a while? I'm supposed to feel bad for him?”

“You're a  _ barve. _ ”

“No, I  _ have  _ one. And I haven't heard any complaints.”

“Ew, Master. Doesn't change the fact you're unreasonably mean.”

“Really not interested in your opinion on it.”

Ahsoka shook her head, sending him a sideways grimace. “Why'd I have to bond to you? You're going to make my life  _ rotten.  _ Where are we going next?”

“Back to the Precinct to have a chat with Artist, get him to draw the man who stole Obi-Wan's work. Then we'll run his face through recognition databases.”  
“Because he might not be Jedi?”

“Yeah. We'll check both criminal  _ and  _ the Jedi logs. If that gets us nowhere, we might have to rassle with the Bounty Hunter's Guild.”

“Because you've forgotten all about being suspended.” Ahsoka's gaze turned disapproving. “What if your boss catches you? She sounded  _ serious,  _ Anakin. And when's your first visit with that Iyana lady, because Chief Turic will  _ fire  _ you.”

“ _ Kark! _ ” Anakin yelped, tearing at his chrono to check. “Dear fripping Sith.”

Ahsoka gave an  _ I-thought-so  _ nod. “Yeah. You'd better give  _ me  _ your schedule, or you won't have a  _ job  _ by the end of the week.”  
“Frip you.”

“Sorry, but  _ I'm  _ not interested in what  _ you've  _ got. I'm pretty sure I'm into girls.” Ahsoka's eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Anakin sent her a slightly amused look. “What? Didn't realize it was true until it came flying out of your mouth?”

“Y— yeah. I've not thought about it much. I'm going to have to think about it.”

“Eh. Seems to me instinct is what guides you through that one. If that's what came popping into your head it's probably legit. Come on, kid. Let's go see Artist, and we'll just say we're in to see Iyana. See? Perfect behavior for the Chief.”

“Somehow I get this feeling that  _ Artist  _ actually has a name, and you just haven't bothered to learn it.”

“What?” Anakin ribbed back. “That would make me a barve.”

Her eyes narrowed again. “Yeah. Damn. I've used more bad words and talked about sex more in my time with you than I have in my  _ life. _ ”

“I think that could have been anticipated ahead of time.”  
“I have no idea what Master Yoda was thinking.”

Anakin barked a laugh and discovered he felt a strange little glow in his soul, directly caused by her presence to the right and a step behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Hi. I'm Ahsoka. Unlike this jerk, I actually care what your name is.”  
Anakin watched in amusement as Ahsoka shouldered her way in front of him to extend a hand to Artist.

“I'm Artist,” the Rodian replied.

Anakin swallowed his smile.

“And you're New Kid, and he's Suspended. Get the hell out of my office.”

Surprised, Ahsoka fell silent and  _ looked  _ at her master.

_ What? You expect everybody to be sunshine and pretty flowers? _

“Got tokens to attend the Huttball game.”

Artist's eyes snapped to his face, narrowing.

His weren't the only ones. Ahsoka stared at him as if he'd grown a third eye.

“Not really my kind of deal. It'd be a shame if they went to waste.”

Without looking away, Artist's hand reached out to seize his datapad and stylus. “Show me the goods first.”  
Anakin revealed the small disks in his hand, careful to not let them be seen through the door.

Ahsoka's shock swift turned to grumpy disapproval.

_ She thinks her morals are easing, but that's banthakark. _

“Sit down and describe the lucky bastard.”

It ended with Anakin walking out with a holo of the thief, two contraband coins in Artist's pocket, and two Jedi headed for the Precinct's shrink's office.

“Do you  _ want  _ to lose your job?” Ahsoka hissed.

He shrugged. “I don't have them anymore.”

“What were you doing holding on to them in the  _ first place _ ? Did you plan to go?”

“Don't know what you're talking about, Snips. And here we are.”

She lapsed into disapproving silence.

“Wait here for me, yeah? It'll just be three-quarters of an hour.”

“It's supposed to be a full hour.”

“Yeah, but I'm five minutes late, and I'll bolt ten early.”

“ _ Fired, _ ” Ahsoka sing-songed.

He sent her a  _ look.  _ He wasn't entirely sure that warmth he'd felt earlier was worth it. It seemed conspicuously  _ absent  _ now.

He stepped up to the secretary's desk. “Sky—”

Bored eyes raised to his, and the falsetto voice mocked, “Skywalker to see Iyana. So you actually made it. She's waiting for you.” He waved his fingers, then peered over at Ahsoka. “Are you as much of a jerk as he is?”

“Force, no.”

A genuine smile lurked around Rilt's lips. “Then you can wait in here instead of in the hall, and perhaps share the cookies Iyana brought in while we complain about how terrible  _ this  _ guy is.”

“Force,  _ yes. _ ”

Anakin scowled at her, betrayed.  _ Figures  _ these two would get along. What the hell.

Genuinely grumpy, he stomped into the small room where Iyana waited, barefoot and with her hands wrapped around a warm cup of caf.

_ Here I am again. _

He dropped himself into the chair opposite her, knees spread, slouched down in the chair and crossing his arms.

This was going to be a  _ very  _ long forty-five minutes.

“Is all well?”  
“I'm suspended and I have to sit here and talk about it with you. Take a wild guess.”

A small smile quirked the corner of her lip. “Is my company so dreadful?”  
“It's the little notes you scribble down afterwards that are fripping  _ dreadful. _ ”

“Ah. It's been a while since we've had a little visit.”

He sent her a  _ look.  _ “Yeah. You're supposed to pretend to be happy.”

“It is why I am concerned as to why you would be sent here again. You've been solving a record number of cases, have been turning in to work clean and sober, and seemed to be expanding your social life when we last met. So why do you think the Chief suspended you?”

“I yelled at a suspect.”

“Do you yell at suspects often?”

“Not like this.” He studied her, but he didn't think she knew he'd actually assaulted the guy.  _ If she finds out, she'll have to report it. _ Then again, she had a  _ very  _ good sabacc face, and the calm, steady flow of her thoughts— difficult to jolt out of their patterns— made gleaning anything from her Force signature difficult.

_ She's more of a Jedi than I am, despite not having the Force to help her at all. _

“Why did you yell at your suspect 'like this'?”  
His fingers tightened, and he belatedly remembered not to ball them into fists. Still, he was sure she'd noticed his tensing and the anger in his eyes.

“Did he do something to you?”

“Turns out not. Turns out the person I trusted most lied to me.”

“Were you angry at the suspect, or this person?”

“Oh, I was angry with the suspect,” Anakin chuckled, voice dark. “And the person... I don't know. Just trying to protect me, I guess.”  
“Is that how you see it, or they see it?”

Anakin stared back at her, and found he didn't want to answer that.

 

* * *

 

“Sheesh. You look like you feel better,” Ahsoka mocked as Anakin stormed out of the room on the  _ dot  _ at the end of his hour.

Iyana had skillfully kept him past his intended bolt time. Something about how his suspension would only be lifted if the higher ups believed he was doing better.

She didn't phrase it like  _ that,  _ but Anakin's translation felt better than her flowy words.

“Shut up,” Anakin muttered.

“Nice meeting you!” Ahsoka called over her shoulder sounding chipper.

Rilt smiled back. “And you.”

“Making friends all over the place, aren't you.” Anakin nearly crashed into Jemiko as he turned into the hall.

“Fearless.”

“Jemiko.”

Ahsoka smiled winningly up into her face. “You're the cop with the bomber.”  
“Yeah.” The woman smiled. “Nice, shut case too. Guy confessed immediately.”

“Find out why?”

She sent him an amused grimace. “Amnesia about the lift? That's okay, I'd appreciate some of that myself.”

“No, not why he would bomb  _ something _ . Why he'd bomb  _ that  _ thing. Coruscant barely hiccuped. It's a side-note in the news. You want to make a statement, you don't do it where nobody can see.”

Jemiko frowned. “He's a nutjob.”

Anakin shrugged. “Your case. Hell knows  _ I'm  _ not supposed to have anything to do with  _ cases  _ for a while.”  
“Kark,” Jemiko muttered.

There was something lurking in her sense that Anakin recognized. “Yeah? What?”  
“So there were four dead and three wounded, right? And this one lady was convinced my guy was going to come after her personally. Said her boyfriend  _ knew  _ something about something, and that this was about that. Sounded like the head-trauma talking, especially since when we showed the images of both her and her boytoy to our bomber he looked confused as hell. Either way, she was scared and asked for protection, so I put some uniforms on her room to make sure nothing goes in. Well, last night she hangs herself.”

Anakin just  _ looked  _ at her.

“I know, right? But Adele says it was a straight-up suicide, no signs of foul play. Both Terrorism and the DA want to wrap this up in a neat little bow, and I'd love to fripping  _ let  _ them and put another feather in my cap, but it just bothered me a little, you know? Somebody scared of dying goes and suicides? So I'm going to ask Iyana if she can make sense of that, so I can move on. But with your added question? Why  _ that  _ party? A party where the girl said her boy told her to meet him because he had something urgent to say?”

Anakin arched his eyebrows. “No kark. Might want to question your perp one more time before he leaves house.”

“Yeah.” Jemiko turned around to speed walk back to the cells. “Want to come?”

“Not supposed to.”

“Yeah, but you want to. You won't be  _ doing  _ anything, just watching.”

Anakin shrugged, trying to hide his interest and curiosity. “The kid's supposed to have an educational time while here, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Jemiko agreed. “It'll be fun.”

Ahsoka sighed as she fell in behind them. “Guys? I'm not  _ that  _ young, okay? I don't need the  _ it'll be fun  _ pep talk anymore.”

“Sure, kid,” Anakin mocked only to have Jemiko elbow him in the ribs.

Glancing back at Ahsoka, she smirked, “I think I like her.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

While Jemiko went to retrieve her prisoner, Anakin waited by the occupied interrogation room.

Stenski scowled at the guy who should have been Anakin's collar.

“Don't frip with me. I'm a  _ Kiffar.  _ Your confession doesn't make sense.”

“I thought we were in love,” the politician whined, looking worriedly at his lawyer. “I told you  _ exactly  _ what happened.”

“I  _ touched  _ the picture you used to kill her. I could sense  _ your  _ fear and  _ her  _ anger. Not the other way around.”

The man shook his head. “You're confused. I found out we weren't exclusive, that she'd been lying to me, that she never loved me after all, and I just snapped!”

“You've already offered my client a plea deal, and we've accepted,” the lawyer interjected. “Just what is it you hope to accomplish here, Detective?”

“Something doesn't add up,” he scowled back.

The lawyer shrugged, standing up. “Come, Aide Tua. I think you'll find, Detective, that Kiffar psychometry is not permissible in a court of law, and since my client has already given you several of the Drung higher ups and operations, you won't be prosecuting him anyway. This line of questioning is therefore pointless and punitive. We're leaving now.”

She suited actions to her words, Anakin remaining in the control room, simmering with frustration.

_ Damn. And that poor woman isn't even going to get her justice. _

Alone in the interrogation room, Stenski growled, looking as angry as Anakin. 

_ Then again, I would have thought the trade worth it a couple days ago.  _ Back when he hadn't yet realized Drung had been framed for his master's death.

“Is he just going to walk?” Ahsoka asked, horrified beside him. “But he's the guy who killed our vic, right?”

“Witness security for turning on a crime syndicate. Not surprising, though it's annoying as hell.”

“That detective should have tried harder.”

Anakin shrugged. “Might have done everything he could, Ahsoka. The lawyer was right. If that's all Stenski's got, nobody's going to listen.”

“Why not use the talents you've got? It makes no sense.”

“It's too easy to fake, Snips. Can't corroborate it.”

“But what if it  _ was  _ self-defense? Why wouldn't he want to clear his name?”

“Oh, even if he was scared and she angry, it wasn't self-defense. The wounds don't match.”

Stenski heaved out a sigh, gathered up his flimsis, and left the room, the light switching to green to indicate it was free for someone else to use.

“Sometimes, things just don't go the way you want them to.”

Ahsoka looked up at him, the movement sudden and her eyes gentling. “We'll find the people behind Master Kenobi's death. They won't get by with a plea deal.”

_ You're right. They won't.  _

He sent her a rueful smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jemiko walked in, her perp looking a little glassy-eyed and unconcerned.

“Come on.” Anakin led Ahsoka into the interrogation room as well, switching the light over to red.

“I have a couple more questions,” Jemiko announced after the bomber's binders had been connected to the table with a short blue energy line. Sitting listless in his chair, the man watched her, apparently unmoved.

“What gave you the idea to bomb  _ that  _ particular party?”

“The voice said so.”

Anakin's shoulders sagged.  _ This is going to turn out nothing after all. Ah, well, interesting while it lasted. _

Jemiko looked just as disappointed. “What voice?”

“Same one that told me how to make the bomb. The populace is  _ against  _ you. You cannot stand. You take me down, and others will rise in my place.”

Jemiko refrained from glancing back at Anakin, but he could sense she wanted to.

“How did this individual contact you?”

“Found an unregistered link in my pocket after one of the meetings.”

“I assume you mean the anti-war meetings you elaborated about earlier?”  
“ _ Obviously _ .” He sent her a belittling look. “When it signaled, I asked who it was, and they said they believed in the cause, and had a chance for me to do something that would wake up the Republic. Had the plans and dates for the party, told me how to get in, told me what stuff to use in the bomb.”  
“This voice. Could you tell anything about it? Accent? Gender—”

“It was heavily distorted.” The man smirked. “You're never going to find them. You're going  _ down. _ ”

“Of course we are. We're fripping warmongers. Where is this unregistered comlink now?”

He shrugged. “They confiscated all my stuff when they brought me in. But they're too smart for you. You won't find them  _ that  _ easy.  _ They'll find you. _ ”

“I'll lock my doors extra tight tonight,” Jemiko returned dryly. She stood, turned eyes ready for the hunt to Anakin. “Let's find that link.”  
On the way down to Evidence, Anakin murmured, “You  _ do  _ remember I'm not supposed to be doing this?”

“My partner's sick and I prefer to work with company. Besides.  _ Somebody's  _ got to be nice to your kid.”

“ _ Thank  _ you.”

“She's not my kid. Force, you make it sound like I created her.”

“Thank the Force you  _ didn't, _ ” Ahsoka retorted. “I might have turned out with the sour gene _. _ ”

Jemiko chuckled and rummaged through the bin containing her collar's effects. “Here it is.” She switched it on and scanned through its history, then shrugged. “Looks like a burner that hasn't been used. Might still have been a voice in his head, he just thought it came through the link.”

Anakin held out a hand for it and peered close. “I don't know. This is military grade. Current. It's good. I'm guessing there's a hidden history.”

“To Tech it goes, then.”

As they traveled, Anakin heard Ahsoka ask, “So my perp is going to walk?”

_ Your perp? _

“We're all pretty mad about it,” Jemiko sympathized. “Tua's a slimy son of a kath hound.”

_ Yeah, and I have little interest in hearing more about it.  _ He always hated it when justice didn't feel quite so good. “So let's say your bomber was a hit man without knowing it. Just what was it that your hanging girl's boy knew?”

Jemiko shrugged. “Don't know. But I think I've got enough to request her comlink and dig deeper to see if I can find anything out.”

“Terrorism's going to be mad if they don't get him,” Anakin smirked.

Jemiko didn't look particularly traumatized by the thought. “Yep.”

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka's feet were dragging a bit slower when Anakin led her to the meeting with Tru Veld once more in the Temple.

_ Look at that. I'm wearing you out. Didn't know it was possible. _

She'd eaten like a starving creature when they stopped by Metalla's on the way home.

_ Three calls that Tech couldn't trace from the bomber's phone. All three incoming. _

He suspected Jemiko would work on the case long into the night.

For all Jemiko's talk about believing in love, she hadn't found hers yet.

_ Maybe that's why she's so desperate to believe. _

Anakin shook it off and stepped into the meeting room. “Thank you for waiting to speak with us.”  
“ _ Anakin.  _ It's been too long!” Veld smiled, holding out a hand to shake. Anakin gripped it back, but he suspected Ahsoka had caught his slight glitch. The heartbeat where he wasn't sure what to do.

“I need to know if you can remember a certain party in the park just outside the Temple back when we were ten.”

Tru's eyes widened. “Working a cold case?”

“Yes. Working Obi-Wan's.”

Tru's expression fell. “Look, Anakin. I get it. It was bad. But you've got a life now, you finally pulled yourself out of that pit. Do you really want to go back in?”

“I'm  _ not  _ going back in. I've got  _ two  _ shrinks to see to it. Can you remember the party that happened that day or not?”

“Yeah.” Tru looked away. “Felt terrible afterwards. While we were having fun, you were almost dying  _ and _ losing your master. We all felt horrible.”  
“I can't remember anything from the entire week before that.”

“But you were working the gang case—”

“I know. I just need you to confirm some of the points on my timeline. Master Sinube said I complained about Obi-Wan refusing to let me go to the party?”

Tru grimaced. “You were pretty upset about it.”

“Did I say what we were going to do instead?”

“You said Obi-Wan wanted to go somewhere, and you couldn't be late.”

_ Go somewhere. _ “Any idea where?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Can you remember anything else from the week before? Anything about me or Obi-Wan?”

Tru shook his head. “School as usual. I don't think I saw him at all. You usually walked home yourself.”

That sounded like himself, alright.  _ And if Obi-Wan was busy, not likely he would override it. _

“Thanks.”

Anakin turned to go, when Tru murmured, “Just... try to find closure.”

“That's what I'm doing. If you remember anything, even if it's small, comm me.”

Ahsoka padded along beside him, her shoulders drooping. “We done, now?”

“Not yet. Three more things.”

 

* * *

 

Jocasta frowned at the question. “At the time? There were three of us. Myself, Tera Sinube, and Sifo-Dyas.”

Anakin noted down the names. “And did Obi-Wan ask you if you'd accessed the mainframe—”

“The first and second days of the month in which he died? He asked, and the answer was no, I did  _ not. _ ”

“Thank you.” Anakin edged away from her, relieved she didn't insist on watching over his shoulder, and made his way to one of the computers. “Ahsoka, can you bring up the access logs for back then? We'll see if anyone  _ did  _ access on those dates with the highest security level. Just to confirm.”

Ahsoka nodded and slipped into the chair, her fingers tapping away.

Anakin took the console next over, and guessed how to spell  _ Sifo-Dyas. _ It took three tries before the computer offered up a potential.

_ Really? That's how you spell it? Fine. _

He selected the file.

All the air went out of him as the image of the Jedi in question appeared.

Ahsoka hesitated beside him, sensing his shock. She looked over, and her eyes widened. “Isn't that the guy who stole Obi-Wan's research?”

Anakin pulled Artist's holo from his pocket and compared the two.

“I think that's a yes,” Anakin murmured. “Want to bet the map  _ was  _ altered and  _ he  _ did it?”  
Ahsoka fussed a moment more, then gestured to her screen.

Sure enough.

Though it was impossible to see  _ what  _ had been done,  _ someone  _ with the highest Archive clearance had accessed the system.

“I'm really thinking it  _ wasn't  _ Madame Nu or Master Sinube,” Ahsoka muttered.

“Print that out,” Anakin directed. “I'm going to see where we can find the guy. We need to have a chat— oh, kark.”

“What?”  
“He's dead. Long dead.” The back of his neck prickled as he saw the month and day.

“Wait, he was sent on a mission the same evening Obi-Wan died?”

“Doesn't say Council appointed,” Anakin pointed out. “He  _ left  _ on a mission same evening. Must have been right after he stole Obi-Wan's research.”

Ahsoka scowled. “Want to bet he's not  _ dead _ , just bolted, before they could find out he's involved in a murder?”

_ You. Did you kill my master? _

“Well,” Anakin muttered as the system churned out copies of the various files, “two out of three done. One more, and then we can quit for the night.”

“ _ Quit _ ?” Ahsoka asked, incredulous.

Anakin felt himself make a grim chuckle. “What? Not tired anymore?”

“No.”

Together they headed for the hangar.

 

* * *

 

Back in Anakin's room, Ahsoka helped him pin new images and words to his wall.

There, in the chief suspect spot, was Sifo-Dyas.

_At 16:15 we left in a Temple speeder, heading toward the Works. They never found the speeder, but we were found in Drung territory._ _An odd path to take if our destination was originally supposed to be Drung land._

But... to  _ find  _ the speeder, given all the junk piles between the Works and Drung territory, when the tracker had been long ago disabled...

_ So Sifo-Dyas went  _ who knows where  _ and is presumed dead. _

_The transport Obi-Wan and I took went in a different direction, and is missing._

His mind offered up only a blank expanse of nothing when he tried to find another piece to fit into the puzzle.

“Okay, out,” he told Ahsoka, gesturing to the door. “I need to sleep.”  
She shrugged with a yawn. “Okay to you too.”

“And don't sleep on the floor outside my door.”

“Ha.”

And when the door shut behind her and he heard her settle on the floor, a tiny smile touched Anakin's face.  _ She's determined. And tenacious. _

And maybe this time they'd actually  _ get  _ somewhere.

Anakin sent one last glance to Sifo-Dyas' face, then crashed into bed.

 

* * *

 

_Giant cogs with fire licking around them._

_A helmet turning to face him, blue with vacant black where there should have been eyes—_

 

* * *

 

The shrill beep of his comm jolted Anakin awake in the dark, making him spasm out to grab it with an adrenaline-fueled, “Skywalker!”

“So I took Lia's link, and commed the last number she'd contacted!”  
“Jemiko?” Anakin rasped, rubbing at his eyes. “The hell time is it—?”

“Bit after midnight,” she dismissed. “Anyway. No one responded, just like when we were trying before. And since the number was unregistered, we were unable to find out who it belonged to.”

Anakin growled. “Jemiko. I'm sleeping.”

“And you owe me a drink for making my day hell with the bomber. Remember?”

“Frip off.” Force damn it, but he felt  _ exhausted.  _ “Who's Lia?”  
“Lia Narex. Our hanging girl? So I commed the number again, just because there wasn't much else I could do, and guess who commed  _ my  _ link? The Uniform manning Evidence, to let me know  _ the hooker's link chimed _ . With the number logged as belonging to Lia's. He wanted to make sure I hadn't lost it, since I signed for the silly thing.”

“Wait. Lia's last comm before she died was to the prostitute  _ Tua  _ killed?”  
Anakin wasn't asleep anymore.

Neither was Ahsoka, since the door slid open and she dragged herself inside, eyes half-mast, but her sense in the Force sharp.

“That is  _ exactly  _ what I'm saying. Get your ass out of bed, and you won't even owe me that drink anymore.”

“Done. I'll met you at the precinct.” Anakin glanced at the chrono. “And Jemiko?”

“Yeah?”

“It's  _ three hours  _ after midnight. Not  _ a bit. _ ”

“Semantics,” she shot back, then hung up.

Ahsoka stretched her neck muscles, then offered a nod. “Okay. I'm ready.”

“Seriously?”

Ahsoka shrugged.

_ Force, I love this kid. No, wait, no, I don't. _ He grabbed his coat, slung it on, and snagged his lightsaber. “Let's go then.”

 

* * *

The three of them wound their way through the nearly-empty bullpen.

All except for Stenski, who sat back in his chair, glowering at his desk.

Jemiko planted her hands on the desk and offered up a winning smile. “I want your hooker's comlink.”

“That's nice.” The Kiffar sent her a sour look. “And I want Skywalker's coat.”

Jemiko chuckled and tossed Lia's link to him. “My suicide was your vic's last incoming call.”

A garbled oath escaped Stenski and he was on his feet in an instant, clutching the comm. “You're sure?”

“Let's go grab your hooker's comlink and  _ make  _ sure,” Jemiko grinned.

It didn't take them long to head down to Evidence and Stenski to ruffle through the box of the prostitute's belongings.

Sure enough...

A match.

“Isn't that an interesting  _ coincidence, _ ” Stenski mused. “Just what were you into, Crimson?”  
“Crimson?” Ahsoka asked.

“The hooker's name. I got it from Tua. He claims not to know her real name, and since her face and DNA didn't come up in the databases, it stalled there.”

Anakin shook his head. “That's not a stall.”  
“Yeah? How would  _ you  _ find out the real name?”

“I might not be able to get her  _ name,  _ but I could at least figure out where she lived. I've got a source who knows the rings operating near here.”

Stenski narrowed his dark eyes at Anakin. “And you are suspended.”

Anakin shrugged. “I'm not working the case, just chatting with a friend. And if I mention something a fellow cop might find useful to her... well,  _ she'd  _ be the one investigating. Not me.”

“You willing to risk your job for that?” Stenski shot back.

Anakin shrugged. “I'm sleep deprived. Bad decisions can't really be helped.”

“Do I know this  _ source _ ?” Ahsoka asked.

Anakin smirked down at her as they walked away. “You do, actually.”

 

 


End file.
